Relationship Status: Pending
by Craft Rose
Summary: Hermione Granger is edging thirty, accident prone and haplessly single. One night, she decides it would be humourous (and hilariously masochistic) to timeline her failed relationships in a memoir. From losing her v-card in a broom closet, to hooking up in a public loo, to ruining her best friend's wedding - she's done it all. (UNDERGOING REVISION 05/08/2015)
1. Chapter 1 (Revised)

**Author's Note: Welcome! If you're new, buckle up and please don't hate me. If you're an oldy, welcome back! Glad to have you around. **

**To those who've read this before: **

**Now, this is the edited/revised version of "Relationship Status: Pending" which means some parts of the story will be altered, but the key points will remain the same. In fact, the first half of the story will pretty much be left as is, with the exception of added dialogue here and there, and maybe some cleaning around. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this version as much as the last! I've been working on the revised version for a long time. Without getting too spoilery, I'll repeat myself and say the key points will remain the same. Well, except for one thing ;)**

**To those who are new:**

**This story is written in first person, which isn't to everyone's liking, but it would be neat if you read it anyway! :) **

**To everyone: **

**If the dialogue is italicized in future chapters, it means I haven't gotten around to updating it with the revised version quite yet. **

**Anyway, enjoy! **

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><p><span>Relationship Status: Pending<span>

There was one time in my teens, when my cousin Jillian showed me a pornographic image of an erect penis. Our interest in the image — at least my own — was by no means sexual. It was morbid curiosity, if anything. I'm not sure what baffled me most about that penis (veins? pre-cum? girth? storm trooper helmet head?) only that it served as the beginning of my horrifically hapless romantic pursuits.

Thank you, Jillian.

_This is what happens to boys when they like you_, she told me.

Bear in mind, I was only fourteen. I had barely recovered from my fear of cooties, let alone locked lips. Did I mention Hogwarts offered no lessons on sex education? Right, well, _ahem_.

Long story short: fourteen-year-old me believed my equally inexperienced cousin, despite every inch of deductive reasoning my parents had ingrained within me since birth; oh and in case you're wondering, there _is _a purpose to this anecdote.

Before we get to that, there are some bases I need to cover, so to speak.

Deep breath.

I suppose I should start with what happened later that year, in December.

Hogwarts. Triwizard Tournament. Yule Ball. Enough to jog your memory? No need to roll your eyes. I'll tell this story at my own pace, _thankyouverymuch_.

Right.

It was weeks after the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. Start of December. Fresh snow. Quite romantic, now that I remember. It seemed the only thing that deterred students from ravaging one another in the middle of the corridors, was promise of a school function so grand that any future function would pale in comparison. But this was no regular school function. It was the Yule Ball; the reason we had spent ridiculous amounts of our parents' money on dress robes and shoes and perfumes (and in some cases Sleekeazy Hair Potion).

The corridors were buzzing with excitement, and then worry. Because the thing about dances, the thing most of us had failed to remember, was the requirement of a date. It was either you buck up and ask someone, or hope to be asked. The older students knew this maze and navigated with ease, having secured dates within hours of the announcement. But the younger students, such as myself and my best friends, were suddenly swept up in the confusing labyrinth that was romance.

Before then, romance was never a thing that existed for us.

I remember spending many sleepless nights thinking about it, about whether or not any young men would spare a second to realize there was a girl hidden under this wild, curly mane. I thought, rather naively, that Ronald would ask me to be his date. In fact, part of me expected him to ask. But he didn't. For three weeks I sat by his side in the Great Hall and during class, and never once did he turn to me and do so much as _mention _the Yule Ball.

To him, I was still bushy-haired Granger with no tits and no arse. True, on all accounts.

But there _was _someone who noticed me; someone whose affections had remained unbeknownst to me, until one week before the Yule Ball.

"Herm-own-ninny?" he asked, approaching me in the most sacred of places.

I reluctantly finger-marked my page in the transfiguration textbook, and laid eyes on the last person I expected to find in the library. Well, second last to Ron. There was a distinct arch in my brow, as I noticed the tall Bulgarian Seeker from Durmstrang Institute in front at me. His usual gaggle of girls had dispersed for the evening; perhaps to gossip over their prospective dates for the upcoming Yule Ball. This left him alone and, to my growing amazement, rather timid despite his international fame.

"Viktor Krum," I stupidly said, closing the book. "Are you…lost?"

There was a dash of colour on the Seeker's cheeks, after which he shook his head. "I…I was wanting to speak with Herm-own-ninny for long time, but these girls…"

Something unexpected tugged at the corners of my lips. I smiled at him. "Looks to me like they've given you the night off."

"Looks like," Viktor agreed, returning my smile. "I hope I don't disturb Herm-own-ninny in studies."

It was so bizarre to me that he actually cared. I'm sure the look on my face was something close to incredulous, but I tried to pass it off as flattery.

"You're no disturbance to me_._"

"This is good thing," he remarked, smiling even deeper before something startling washed over his facial features. "I was wanting to speak to Herm-oh-ninny about the…the…"

"_…_the Tournament?" I guessed, genuinely lost.

Viktor shook his head. "Not this. Herm-oh-ninny is bright witch but I don't come to her — to you — for this. I come to you for…for…" The Seeker scrunched his lips to the side, in deep thought, as he struggled to find the words. "I…I forget how do you say this one…"

There was a small voice inside my head that whispered the right answer, but I ignored it. I couldn't focus on anything apart from the broken English that came from his adorable mouth.

I realized then that I had a thing for accents.

"Are you . . . looking for someone? Perhaps, Harry?" I furthered, searching through his eyes for some form of confirmation.

Krum took a deep breath, desperate to convey the thoughts floating through his mind. It was endearing, but I didn't have the heart to sit around and let him stumble over his words. There were language translation dictionaries on the other side of the library, and the moment I decided to grab one was the moment something else caught my attention. It came from outside the library, from the corridors.

It was music. Someone had _The Weird Sisters _on blast.

"This!" Viktor exclaimed, moving about from one foot to the other in an awkward fashion. "I am trying to ask, will Herm-own-ninny be doing this?"

"_Er —_" My face screwed, as I watched with mingled confusion and amusement. Only then, did it dawn on me. Those were not nervous movements. Those were dance moves. "OH!" I realized. "You're talking about the Yule Ball!_"_

The young man clapped his hands together, as though we had completed the final round in a game of charades. "Yes! This one!" he rejoiced. "I am asking if Herm-own-ninny is going to Yool Bool_._"

There was a moment when I joined him in his rejoice, but that moment was short-lived. I bowed my head down and fell back into my seat. In all the excitement, I had forgotten what drove me to the library from sunrise to sunset. There were reminders all over the corridors and in the Gryffindor Common Room. Posters. Bulletins. Rules of conduct.

Reminders that didn't apply to me.

Because I, in the most cliche twist of fate, had been left dateless.

"Is . . . Is something saddening Herm-own-ninny?"

"Not at all," I lied, forcing a smile. "I'm just . . . I've decided not to attend the ball. I . . . I have so much revision to do and . . . no time_._"

His face fell. "I am sad for this. I was wanting to ask Herm-own-ninny to —"

In an instant, my thoughts reverted back to Ron; to the one person I had counted on. For whatever reason.

"_ — _be my date for Yool Bool."

The music in the corridor faded, leaving the library as silent and still as it had been before. For a moment, I considered gathering my things and heading to the girls' dormitory — where I knew I wouldn't run into Ron or Harry or the lot of them — but in that moment, the small voice inside my head coaxed me out of this depleted state and back to reality.

I glanced up, bewildered. "I beg your pardon?"

The colour on Viktor's cheeks returned. "I am wanting to ask for long time. It will honour me to be date for bright, byoot-full witch like you, Herm-own-ninny."

In that moment, I couldn't decide which was more shocking. The fact that Viktor Krum had asked me to be his date to the Yule Ball, or the fact that I hadn't yet answered.

"Is this . . . Is this idea pleasing to you?" he furthered, glancing at me with an equal amount of nervousness in his system.

"I…I…" The answer was on the tip of my tongue. "I…"

During the Quidditch World Cup, there hadn't been a trace of nervousness within the famous Seeker. But in that moment, in the library, he might as well have been facing another dragon. His blush turned bright, beet red. His lip began to twitch. His eyes avoided mine for dear life, and for a moment it appeared as though he were planning an escape route but then —

The words came to me fast and hard. "Yes. Yes, of course. I — I would love to attend the Yule Ball with you_._"

Viktor opened his mouth, but didn't speak. Instead he flashed a grin so wide, I swear I could see all four of his wisdom teeth.

There was nothing, no words in English or Bulgarian, to describe the glee that erupted in my chest, at the mere thought of what happened in the library that night. I had been asked to the Yule Ball by someone who genuinely wanted to go with me; someone thoughtful and mature and caring. It was almost too good to be true. Viktor Krum was the real deal. There was a language barrier and he still couldn't pronounce my name, but he was also the perfect gentleman.

Descending that staircase and linking my arm around his, for all the school to bear witness, was perhaps the most satisfying moment in my adolescence. Granted, most of them took a moment recognize me due to the light makeup and the generous amount of _Sleekeazy Hair Potion _I had applied for the occasion, but it was still a moment for the history books.

Harry looked to me in awe. Ron was dull with shock. Ginny, the only person with whom I had shared my secret, beamed brighter than any lantern. Even the bane of my existence spared a glance in my direction; though I'm sure it was more of a deductive thing, in an attempt to figure out what I did to tame my hair and perhaps to scrutinize my ensemble.

The dress robes I had chosen were periwinkle blue and made of the softest fabric I had ever touched. Part of me felt silly with my hair straight and with blusher on my cheeks, but the second I felt anxious, I would catch my date gazing at me with that same starry-eyed look about him.

It made me delirious — with what, I had no idea. The only thing I knew for sure, was that there was music and cheering and dancing, and that this would be a night to remember.

It was pure luck that my feet remained in tact from how much I danced that night. Viktor, as well. Unlike the other boys and their dates, mine danced all night with me. In fact, we were one of the last couples left on the dance floor. It cleared out around an hour after midnight, during which time I glanced back and noticed Ron and Harry as sullen and still as a pair of statues. It looked to me like they hadn't moved a muscle since the opening ceremony had closed, much to the chagrin of their dates: Parvati and Padma.

In the back of my mind, I knew Ron had been staring at me all night. It shouldn't have mattered to me, considering who my date was and how much fun I was having, but the fact that he couldn't tear his eyes away from me only made me dance more.

It was shaping up to be quite the night and little did I know, the night wasn't quite over.

"Herm-own-ninny_,_" spoke the deep, delicious voice that had been whispering sweet nothings into my ear since the evening started. "I would like to keep seeing you. Is there place to walk?"

Those troubling, lingering thoughts about Ron disappeared the moment I heard my name on Viktor's lips. I was sure there was no alcohol served at the Yule Ball, but for some reason I felt free and uninhibited. It was a good feeling — a great feeling — and the longer I spent with Viktor, the bigger that feeling grew. I decided then, that it was affection. This date wasn't just an amicable arrangement. It meant something to me, and I could tell it meant something to him.

Without much thought behind it, I boldly took him by the hand and tossed a look around to make sure we were unseen before leading him out of the Great Hall. There was a place in Hogwarts; a place more sacred to me than the library and with a much, much better view. I took him there, hand-in-hand, as we laughed and fell over one another on our ascent. There was a moment, mid-way up the stairs, when I lost balance and found his arm around my waist.

It was a moment that lingered in my chest long after we continued our ascent up the staircase, eclipsed only by what followed.

I led him to the top of the Astronomy Tower; forbidden to students without the supervision of a teacher. It was against the rules to be there at this hour, with him and no teachers in sight, but through my friendship with Harry, I learned some rules were meant to be broken.

"Herm-own-ninny," he spoke again, adoringly, in such close proximity that I could see the moon reflected in his eyes.

I breathed in, unable to help myself as I leaned into him, suddenly aware of the fact that his arm hadn't left my waist. There was snow falling from the clouds above, cascading down on us as we stood atop the Astronomy Tower. It was caught in my hair, as well as his, and as he moved closer to unravel the sleek knot that held my hair in place, I felt release.

The potion had warn off due to dampness from the snow, but Viktor didn't seem to mind. His eyes only shone brighter, as my curls returned.

I looked to him.

He looked to me.

Then, and only then, did it happen.

I knowingly closed my eyes and felt his breath tickle my lips, before he placed one hand under my chin and kissed me.

It was my first kiss.

It could have been his first kiss, too, but I doubted that very much. It wasn't only his fame, but also the way he kissed that told me this wasn't his first time. I melted into him, into the kiss, into his hands on me.


	2. Chapter 2 (Revised)

**Author's Note: Chapter Two!**

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><p>It turns out, Jillian was right.<p>

Viktor liked me. Though I should probably make clear on the situation. I did not have sex with Viktor Krum (again, fourth year) but there were ways of knowing he wanted to without actually doing it.

It came to no shock that he later invited me to spend the summer with him and his family in Sofia. An invitation that came to no avail, of course. See, he was the perfect gentleman and made me feel frilly and happy, but there was still the matter of one ginger-haired 'friend' to take into account.

Horrible, horrible decision.

I'm not sure which was worse: the fact that I had convinced myself into believing I _owed _it to Ron to decline, or the fact that everyone else seemed to agree.

For Ginny's sake, I understood. Ron was her brother and I, her friend. It made sense coming from her, but from Harry, it didn't. Granted, he was still recovering from the rise of his most fearsome adversary _and _the untimely death of his fellow champion Cedric Diggory — quite safe to assume there were other, more important matters on his mind — but I still would have liked some support on the Ron issue(s).

Because, trust me, there was more than one.

It seemed every time we would argue, another issue would arise and overtake the first one. There was no down time with Ron. I think that's what bothered me most. I had all the constraints of being in a relationship, without actually being in one. It was quite unfair, really. It's not like I would have declined, had he mustered up some Gryffindor courage and asked me out.

Still a sore subject.

Obviously.

For those reasons, I refrained from seeing anyone in my fifth year. It wasn't particularly difficult, seeing as we were introduced to the Order and the nightmare that was Dolores Umbridge, but I digress.

It seemed everyone, apart from Ron and myself, were coupling off and sucking face in every stretch of the castle. Even Harry was dating someone. Cho. Well, it was _one_ date — a horrible one, at that — and she appeared to be using him in order to cope with the death of her deceased boyfriend. But it was still something. Ginny, as well. That year, she was in full bloom and became one of the most desirable witches in school. Michael Corner was first to notice, and he quickly asked her out.

I remember the night she came to me, asking my advice on whether she should accept the date and go to Hogsmeade with him. The real question was spoken in subtext, of course. '_Should I date Michael?'_ was code for, '_Should I hold on to Harry?_' and I answered with delicate insight. It was no secret that to me that Harry would eventually fall for Ginny, but it pained me to see her wait for him, the way I had been forced to wait for Ron.

Did I mention straight, white men are the greediest, most self-indulgent creatures in existence? One would think being born with a cock and the societal right to be a sexist, racist arse would be enough. Sadly, no. There is only one thing smaller than their emotional capacity to understand others, and it's the knob-like appendage with which all of them are afflicted.

(We shall henceforth refer to such folly as _SWMS: Straight White Male Syndrome_)

Er — getting off topic here. Soz.

The point is, being a girl meant my feelings and concerns were viewed as melodrama with which no teenaged male wished to be involved. I didn't matter. I was 'overthinking it' and simply, acting foolish.

Particularly where Ron was concerned.

It became clear to me in the year that followed; the year he tried out for a position on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team and subsequently made the cut. In all his moronic and impossibly SWMS-like behaviour, he was still mine and Harry's good friend. There was something to be said about his big, oafish heart and his fierce, unyielding loyalty. I had to remind myself that his feelings were spoken through action, rather than words.

It was nice that he had a chance to shine on the Quidditch Pitch, as Harry had since first year. The opening match made me proud to be his friend and even more to be his pseudo-girlfriend. By sixth year, he had never communicated romantic interest in me — verbally, at least — but even an infant could see he wanted me. It was obvious, at least I thought so. It frustrated me to wait for him, and there were several times in which I considered asking him out myself, but I figured it would bruise his ego too much to know I had to make the first move.

So.

I waited and waited and waited; then finally, it happened.

Ron went through puberty and decided it was time to suck face like everyone else. Plot twist: it wasn't me, it was Lavender Brown. Lav Lav, as he affectionately called her during the beginning stages of their exhibitionist union. Needless to say, I was taken aback (and deeply hurt, but shhh). It made no sense, given that he'd previously ignored Lavender's shameless flirting. Ginny later informed me that Ron did this in retaliation after she taunted him for being the only person in our group to never have snogged anyone, furiously mentioning that Harry kissed Cho and that I kissed Viktor. Information to which Ron had never been privy, for obvious reasons.

1. It was none of his business

2. It was none of his business

3. It was none of his business

I'm not even sure you can categorize what happened between Ron and Lavender as a relationship. It was more me walking into the Common Room, whilst he proved to no one that he could 'suck face' like the best of them. In hindsight, there was a lesson to be learned somewhere, pertaining to mine and Ron's differences, but that voice of reason was overshadowed by the betrayal in my chest.

I felt worse than used.

I felt stupid.

It seemed everyone else took notice. There were whispers and looks thrown in my direction, from the least likely of people. Slytherins, included. How embarrassing. I tried my best to put on a brave face and pretend none of it bothered me, but Ron and Lavender flaunted their relationship all around the castle. There was only one area of the castle that I knew I wouldn't run into them.

The library.

I found solace there, amid the books and the shelves and the crackling fireplace.

It was a nice escape, but there was one aspect in mine and Ron's situation that I had failed to remember. Prefects. Both of us were prefects, which meant we were to venture the corridors, together, in search of students out past curfew and other mischief. It was a death sentence, really. Luckily, the girl he had chosen to be his co-face-sucker was surprisingly jealous of mine and Ron's nonexistent friendship and convinced one of the Slytherin prefects — the only girls in school she knew wouldn't interest him in the slightest — to be his new patrol partner. This meant I had a new patrol partner, too. Had Lavender survived the war, I would have thanked her for doing this, as she unknowingly brought about one of the most pivotal moments in my life.

I arrived, alone and exhausted, at the designated meeting place, and found a tall, raven-haired Slytherin waiting for me. There was a long night ahead. In classic fashion, I had spent about ten hours writing (and rewriting) an immensely difficult Potions essay. You see, this was the year Harry discovered the Half-Blood Prince. I, along with the others, made it my personal mission to prove that godforsaken book wrong and in doing so, exhausted myself trying to best this self-proclaimed prince.

It appeared my new patrol partner took notice of the dark circles under my eyes and the extra frizz in my hair. I'm sure my clothes were rather wrinkled, as well. Don't judge! It wasn't a good time for me.

"Granger," he greeted, leaning against the stone-textured wall with an unusually mellow vibe about him, despite the locale.

It had to be a Slytherin thing.

I entered the dungeons and squinted a little as he came into focus. Routinely quiet and mild-mannered, it surprised me to see what Theodore Nott had in his hands: an honest-to-Merlin cigarette, but not just any kind.

"Is that — Is that marijuana?" I asked, appalled.

"Could be," he shrugged, sucking back. "Have a go and find out."

There were certain things I didn't mess around with, and drugs happened to be one of them. I stepped back, pressing my spine against the opposite wall. "You — You can't smoke marijuana. You're a prefect!"

He exhaled, with a hint of a smile. "Always so uptight_._"

"I'm _not_ uptight." Rubbish. "I'm afraid you'll need to dispose of any existing drugs and drug-related paraphernalia, before I inform the Headmaster."

Nott responded with a gentle laugh, making o's. "Don't waste your breath."

"What are you talking about?"

"Dumbledore knows," smiled the stoner. "Medical marijuana."

There was a firm, iron-clad arch in my brow. "If that were true, which it's not, I highly doubt you're allowed to smoke in the middle of the corridors like this. I — I want to see your documentation."

"Haven't got it on me_,_" he winked. "S'pose you'll have to take my word for it_._"

"You're insufferable. I always thought you were the nice, quiet one in the Slytherin lot but I can now see you were probably just _high_ all those times."

His lips quivered with laughter. "I had no idea you would be so offended."

"You're smoking marijuana in the middle of the castle," I enunciated. "Medical or not, I don't approve."

"Such a shame. I rolled one for you and everything."

"I beg your pardon?"

Nott reached into his robes and withdrew another marijuana cigarette, watching intently as I eyed the object in question. "Dare you_._"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You can't be serious."

"It's nothing like your primary school teacher said_,_" he told me, ending with a small wink. "Promise_._"

I couldn't decide which was more alarming: the fact that Theodore Nott was trying to get me to smoke weed with him in the dungeons or that I was beginning to consider it. Unlike his presumptions about me, there was little I didn't know about marijuana. It wasn't nearly as bad as alcohol — which by that point, I _had _consumed.

It was, however, still a drug.

"You know those moments after a night out with your mates, when you're all just laying around, immersed in the sensation of being young and carefree?" he asked.

I glanced up, noticing the twinkle in his eyes. "Yes_._"

"Smoking weed is like that," he explained. "Only it's better, because it turns this shit universe into an okay place. Like a light at the end of the tunnel."

"Really?" I scoffed, feigning derision.

"Really," he repeated, moving closer to me. "Jokes aside, Granger. I, and the rest of the school, can see that you haven't been yourself lately. It seems to me, like you could use the release. Maybe a reminder that things get better."

There was a strange sensation in my chest as he neared. I opened my mouth to protest but no words came out. It was the strangest, most peculiar feeling. For a moment, I thought it to be intrigue, but it can't have been. I wasn't a stoner. I was a well-behaved citizen. I came from a nice family, and I lived by a strict moral code.

"This is the tunnel," Nott told me, sliding the joint between my parted lips, and igniting it with the flick of his lighter. "And this is the light."

I went completely still. There were countless words running through my mind, but none of them prospered. It was beginning to feel like he had stunned me — and perhaps he had — but not with magic.

"Keep breathing," he instructed, moving away now. "Slowly and deeply_._"

I did as I was told and coughed up a storm for the first few tokes, but the more time that passed, the more balanced I felt. It was physical and mental. I breathed in and then out, watching my worries dissipate into the dim atmosphere, swirling alongside the smoke. For a moment there, I forgot I wasn't alone. Nott was as quiet and as mellow as I remembered him to be, but something about our vibe changed that night, and carried on for the nights that followed.

Specifically, the night after next.


	3. Chapter 3 (Revised)

**Author's Note: Chapter Three! Also! Don't do drugs, children. Haha.**

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><p>There were no pleasantries or prolonged attempts at smalltalk. There was only the door closing behind us, as Nott took me by the hand and whisked me into one of the broom closets. It was a tight space, with barely enough room to stand let alone lose one's virginity, but I digress. I hurriedly charmed the door and then the walls, unbeknownst to how any of this came to be and how on earth I'd gone from dodging Cormac McLaggen at Slughorn's Christmas party, to being ravished in a broom closet by Theodore Nott.<p>

Hold on.

I should explain how this happened.

Rewind!

It started the moment I arrived at the party; regrettably, with McLaggen. I had originally planned to attend with Ron, but those plans were no more seeing as he preferred to shit all over our friendship (and our feelings) by parading around the castle with Lavender-fucking-Brown. Because of this, I had no choice but to invite McLaggen, even though I couldn't stand being around him for more than two seconds at a time. Since, you know, it took him two seconds to open his mouth and attempt to plant it directly on mine.

Cringe.

I tried hiding in one of the curtained alcoves with Harry. I tried standing idle over a conversation between two enormous wizards, hoping they would block me. I even tried talking to Daphne Greengrass in the ladies' room, one of the more tolerable Slytherin girls, about her date and how he'd been ignoring her all evening.

But the predator that was Cormac McLaggen found me _every single time_.

It was beginning to feel like this was a practical joke, and that Ron had arranged for Cormac to be a right prick in order to get back at me for kissing Krum over two years ago. But that can't have been the case. Because those two buffoons hated one another on a deep, spiritual level. It was almost laughable. I distantly wondered what would have happened, had I not used the Confundus Charm on Cormac during Quidditch try-outs.

Ron would not have made the team and would never have mustered the confidence to pursue Lavender Brown, even with her incessant flirting. Our friendship would have been in perfect, maybe pristine condition, and we would still have been patrol partners.

It was then, rather suddenly, that I noticed someone else at the party.

Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini were with him, and the two of them were arguing about the reason she had been so upset in the loo. It was quite entertaining, to be honest. I watched with surprising interest, as the pair fired insults back and forth, and then, as they moved to what I assumed was a more private location; to do what, I hadn't the slightest idea.

I focused on something else — rather, some_one _else.

I had never seen him like this before, dressed in a set of midnight blue dress robes that accented his eyes, hair and complexion. It went without saying that he was attractive, but I couldn't place a finger on what about him intrigued me most. It was a draw between his inattention to blood status and his messily coiffed hair; the latter of which looked rather touchable that night. Not to mention those cheekbones. It was like River Phoenix had been reincarnated in the guise of a pure-blood Slytherin wizard — drugs and all.

Too soon? Too soon.

Regardless, it took a full fifteen minutes before I realized this particular young man had noticed my desirous stare. I could have sworn I saw him wink.

The nerve.

But it was no matter, because I soon winked back and watched as the smirk left his lips. It was unbelievably satisfying; though not nearly as satisfying as the uninhibited look in his eyes.

By then, we were seasoned 'marijuana mates' but never in the three nights that I had spent getting high in the dungeons with Theodore Nott, had he shown even the slightest bit of attraction towards me. It was usually him teasing me about the trivialities in my nonexistent love life, or asking about Muggle music he found 'cool'. I figured, rather naively, that a lad wasn't interested unless he a) asked you out or b) behaved in an immature, wildly jealous manner.

Because, let's face it, those were the only things I had ever experienced.

But he was rather subtle in his approach, probably testing the waters to see if I was interested or even ready for something. I knew right then that I had neither the time nor patience for a relationship; what with the war and final exams and everything else that drained my life source.

Luckily, it wasn't a relationship with him that I wanted, and I could now see that my wink had driven this point home. I breathed in and collected as much air as my lungs would allow, before making a swift and discreet exit from the festivities. The voice of reason inside my head wasn't shouting objections like it had the night I was introduced to weed. It was rather quiet, to be perfectly honest.

There were no students in the corridors — nor teachers.

Just us.

I could hear him a few steps behind me, perhaps waiting for me to turn around and do something. But I didn't. I walked one step after another and unraveled the ribbon that held my hair together.

It hindsight, I should probably have prepared better by wearing knickers that were at the very least, a little flattering to my arse shape or a bra that gave me the lift I needed, but he didn't appear to care about the state of my knickers, only that they came off.

Fast Forward!

It was good thinking that I had used the silencing charm, or our cover would surely have been blown. I moaned breathlessly, as he brushed his lips against mine and pressed our bodies together. It wasn't entirely his fault for being so bold, seeing as there wasn't enough room to beat around the bush. Besides, I liked this side to him. I liked being locked in a broom closet with Theodore Nott kissing me from lips to neck. I especially liked being able to run my fingers through his hair and over his surprisingly toned arms. I figured it was a result of carrying books from the library to the Slytherin dungeons for six years. Merlin knew he wasn't into sport like the other lads.

I can't believe I forgot to mention!

Nott was a massive nerd, and brilliantly unapologetic about it. I daydreamed about revising with him. It was that bad.

But in that moment, there wasn't a single fibre in my being that wished to hit the books with him. Not then. Because then, I made quick work of the buttons that ran down his shirt, revealing to me a torso that was thin without being skeletal and hard in all the right places. I felt that torso press up against mine, coaxing another moan from me, deeper this time.

"Granger," he spoke, in a voice that transitioned swiftly from _want _to _need_.

I could easily have lost it right then and there. It was that good. But he carried on and kissed me down my front, slowly unzipping my dress from behind. I paused for a moment and felt a touch of nervousness, seeing as this marked the first time anyone had seen me unclothed since I was a toddler. It dawned on me hard and fast that I didn't care, and the nervousness in my bloodstream was soon eclipsed by the look in Nott's eyes as he devoured me head to toe.

Have mercy. (Bonus points to any Muggles who read that in Uncle Jesse's voice).

The rest, as they say, is history.

In case anyone is curious, he was a complete gentleman from start to finish — and years later I still think about him and the manner in which he disentangled the knot that inhibited me with so much ease. I didn't hold back with Nott, because I didn't have to.

Parts of me craved him long after that night, but I couldn't pursue him. It wasn't about Ron. It was about the impending conflict that everyone apart from the Order had been trying so hard to avoid.

There was a war.

…and there was no amount of revision that could have prepared me for the next year.


	4. Chapter 4 (Revised)

**Author's Note: Chapter Four!**

* * *

><p>I'll level with you.<p>

I tried being with Ron, once the war was won, but it didn't work. Shocker. I s'pose we should have seen it coming, but even the largest, most unmistakable warning couldn't have prepared me for the manner in which he broke up with me.

No, your eyes aren't failing you. It's true.

_He _broke up with _me_.

It happened around one year after the Battle of Hogwarts. I, along with Ron and Harry, had opted to join the Auror Department. Normally, there was more training involved and an age restriction for new recruits, but the Ministry was in dire shape after the war.

In other words, they needed us.

Needless to say, we walked into the office that first day with some heavy chips on our shoulders. Before then, we had always been written off as nothing more than a troublesome trio with a thing for breaking rules — only half true. For once, it was nice to have the respect we so rightfully deserved.

Harry embraced his new role as Kingsley's right hand man, and Ron didn't seem at all jealous. Things were really starting to shape up. Changes were being made. Our little trio was growing, and for a moment there, it seemed as though the world was finally in order.

Then _it_ happened.

Right on cue.

I returned to mine and Ginny's flat; empty, as usual, given that she still had to complete her seventh year at Hogwarts. I didn't mind being alone after those long work hours, doing paperwork or chasing down Death Eaters that were in hiding, but that night . . . something strange went down.

"Ron?" I asked, startled to see him at the kitchen table. It looked as though he had been waiting for quite some time. I set down my things and slid into the chair next to his. "I didn't know you were back in town. I thought you were still in Belfast with Harry and the others_._"

After the war, he decided it would be a cool idea to grow out a beard and _be a man _— or whatever. It made for an awkward kiss every now and then, but I didn't mind all that much.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, searching through his eyes for some indication as to what was going on.

Ron darted a look at me, rather quickly. I naively thought eye contact was a step in the right direction, but his seriousness only seemed to deepen. "We need to talk_._"

Those four words.

Never in my life, had anything good come after _we need to talk_. I'm not sure what I felt, right then; perhaps a mixture of confusion and worry, and the intense urge to leave him there with no chance to finish his thoughts.

"What's going on?" I asked, despite myself.

There was a hollow look in his eyes, which told me he had done something very, very wrong. Suddenly, thousands of possibilities were racing through my mind at top speed. Perhaps he cheated on me. Perhaps he was interested in men. Perhaps he wasn't interested in anyone or anything at all, and desired an asexual life. Perhaps he wanted to move out of England and pursue a career as a juggler in the the east. Perhaps he wasn't actually Ron at all. Perhaps he was one of those pesky boggarts, there to reveal my deepest, darkest fears.

Yes, that had to be it.

"_Riddikulus!_" I shouted, jumping from my chair.

Without the slightest warning, Ron was propelled backwards, into the dish rack, as a single current of magic left the end of my wand. I held my position for several moments, waiting pathetically for the boggart to return to its true form, but nothing happened. Ron scrambled to his feet, clothes askew and hair an even bigger mess than before. There was also some residue from the collision stuck in his beard, but I made the executive decision to keep that information to myself.

If he had the nerve to bombard me with bad news after such a seemingly endless day at the office, he deserved to look like a fool doing it.

"What the bloody hell was that about?" he demanded, visibly shaken.

I shrugged and lowered my wand, but didn't pocket it. "I thought you might have been a — never mind. Just tell me what's going on."

For a moment, he eyed me, as though waiting for me to fire another spell at him, which I very well could have, but the moment soon passed. Ron gestured for me to have a seat with him in the lounge, and I reluctantly followed. There was silence between us, for the first time in a long time. Our conversations were usually on the heated side, filled with loads of disagreements and the occasional moaning sesh, but never, not even once, had there been no words to speak.

"I — I've been thinking about the future," he said, sounding rather unlike himself. "It's been six months and — and I think maybe we should consider living together."

"Living together?" I repeated, eyes wide. "You were in here all mopey and _that's_ what you wanted to say?"

Ron nodded. "_I_ was nervous to ask, because, well, you seem to be doing well here, by yourself, but maybe…maybe it would be nice to take things to the next level."

Something about his demeanour didn't reflect the words coming from his mouth, but I ignored that hunch and chose instead to embrace him. I had waited for this moment for a long, long time. After all, we had been through so much together. It made sense for us to eventually live together.

Suddenly, the onslaught of excitement that flooded both our bodies made the swift transition into — yes, that's right — hormones.

Ron pressed his lips onto mine and kissed me, taking control for the first time in a long time, whilst lowering me flat onto the sofa. It was a love seat, which meant there wasn't much room, but we managed. Like I said, it had been a year, so we were pretty well-acquainted with each other on a physical level, but every time he undressed me felt like the first time. I lifted my arms with anticipation and felt a brush of cool air along the bare skin of my torso. Ron tossed my blouse and bra to the floor and palmed my breasts with both hands.

I moaned into our kiss, now sweating from the heat building between us, my own hands working the buttons on his shirt. It was tough work with him on top of me, making me pause every other second as he sucked on my neck and rubbed his fingertips over my nipples.

(Nipples are funny, aren't they? No? Just me? Fine.)

Despite his foolishness and penchant for fucking up, Ron was quite good at things of a sexual nature. It surprised me; then again, it didn't. The man had an appetite, and not just for food.

I wrapped my legs around him and felt him against me. It made me blush, even after all the times I had been with him.

"Hurry," I urged, waiting as he fumbled with his wand, in an effort to cast the proper contraceptive spells on both of us. "Actually, take your time. Let's not relive the scare of our three month anniversary_._"

Ron shot me a quick glare, as the _scare of our three month anniversary _had been his fault for not casting the spells properly. Since then, I had taken that role but it was important for him to learn the proper way to do it. I watched intently, waiting for the proper signs to indicate the spell had been casted correctly.

He passed.

"Brill_ —_" I nearly remarked, swept into another kiss as Ron lifted me from the sofa and carried me to the bedroom, all the while tugging and tossing our remaining clothes.

Finally, we made it to the bedroom and crashed into my freshly washed duvet. It was all quick movements and hasty kisses from there. I rolled on top and straddled him, relishing the manner in which his facial muscles contorted to suit the pleasure surging from his body into mine.

"Merlin," he groaned, grabbing my hips and meeting my movements.

I collapsed forward, breathing heavily. "You — know — how — to — get — me — go — ing — " I teased, taking a jab at the fact that his go-to was shouting the name of an old, bearded, Slytherin wizard from the Middle Ages.

Ron didn't find this very amusing, but his lack of amusement resulted in quicker, deeper movements that really did get me going. I repositioned myself so that I was on my side, with him behind me, cupping me and rubbing me in places. It was my favourite position, one that resulted in an earth shattering orgasm every single time.

I climaxed rather quickly, mouth hanging open as several spasms traveled the length of my body. Pleasure from head to toe. The best part was Ron didn't stop. Instead, he switched his rhythm and rode the orgasm with me. It was like nothing he had ever done So sensual, so experienced, so very different from his usual. Rather similar to someone else.

Remember the part about Ron breaking up with me? Well, don't say I didn't warn you.

In the final stretch of my orgasm, an incredibly horrible thing happened.

"Nott," I breathed out, in a haze of smokey pleasure, reminded of that one time in the broom closet.

Ron paused. "Not what?"

"Er_ —_"

You see, until then, my boyfriend was not completely aware of the fact that I had lost my virginity to someone else. It wasn't something I did on purpose. I hated keeping secrets from him, but Ron just went and assumed I was a virgin the first time we had sex. Granted, I should have told him the truth right then and there, but I didn't.

Instead, this happened.

"Hermione?"

My body stiffened, to the point that Ron pulled out and turned me onto my back so we could see each other face to face. I didn't want him to see the horror in my eyes. I didn't want him to know I broke the one cardinal rule and shouted someone else's name in the midst of orgasmic bliss.

I fucked up.

I fucked up _bad_.

Ron brushed the hair from my forehead. "What's wrong?" he asked, showing genuine, mature concern. "Are you hurt? Was I too rough?"

I swallowed hard. "No, you were perfect."

"Then what's got you so down?"

There were several directions I could have taken this conversation, to ease the truth and perhaps prepare him for it, but I chose the blunt route — because _that's_ the smart thing to do in a situation like this. Pfft.

"I'm not a virgin_._"

Ron cracked a smile. "Ain't that the truth_,_" he spoke, brushing my lips with the bud of his thumb before giving me a soft peck.

"No_ —_" I interjected, pushing him away and sitting up. "I mean, I haven't been a virgin for a long time."

"One year isn't that long," he reasoned, looking at me curiously.

"It hasn't been a year for me_,_" I confessed, avoiding his eyes. "_It's been about three._"

There was a moment, wherein Ron stared at me completely confused — like classic-Ron-confused — but the moment soon passed. I could see realization tug at his face muscles. First, there was a twitch along his bottom lip. Then, there was a swift descent along his neck as his Adam's apple sunk. Finally, the worst, most heart wrenching thing happened.

I could see actual tears in his eyes.

"Harry?" he choked out.

I pressed my back against the headboard, startled. "What? No, never! I would never. I mean, I had a bit of a crush on him in our second year but — never mind that. It wasn't Harry."

Ron exhaled, as though a world of pressure had been lifted from his shoulders. "It doesn't matter then. I'm with you now. That's all that counts." He moved closer to me and made motion to put an arm around my shoulders.

"Wait_ —_" I cut in, eyes squeezed shut, either from fear that this would be it or from annoyance that I was so fucking Gryffindor. Suffice to say, I'd never wanted to be so Slytherin in my life. Slytherins would have known to accept Ron's reaction and move on, but Gryffindors just _had _to be honest.

"Hermione, it's all right," he assured me. "I'd be a complete dick to hold anything against you, after all that I've put you through_._"

If only he had been so mature and understanding back in school. Perhaps then, I would never have lost my v-card to another boy. Still, I didn't regret it. I simply regretted being so secretive about it.

"There's something you need to know," I told him, knowing the only way to go was honesty. "I lost my virginity to_ —_"

"Please don't say Malfoy," he interjected.

In response to this, I lifted my brow at him and gagged at the notion. "Don't be ridiculous. It wasn't him. It was actually . . . it was Theodore_._"

"Theodore_ . . ._" Ron repeated, drawing a blank. "Theodore what?"

This was the moment. This was the moment that would go down in history as the time Hermione Granger broke Ron Weasley's heart. Has a nice ring to it, no? Don't judge. I never claimed to be a saint.

"Nott," I finished, hearing the single syllable name reverberate between us, until a light bulb went off in Ron's head.

* * *

><p><strong>lmao <strong>


	5. Chapter 5 (Revised)

**Author's Note: Chapter Five!**

* * *

><p>Sorry about that!<p>

I had to feed the kittens, and don't you dare make cat lady jokes or so help me Godric, I will leave you with even worse cliffhanger.

Anyway, where were we?

Right.

"Ron?" I watched, with wide, tear-filled eyes as my boyfriend of one year left me to rot in the aftermath of my mistakes. "Ron, please. Just listen to me_._"

There was no use in trying to get through to him. Once that light bulb went off, it was game over. I knew that even before he stormed out of my bedroom and into the foyer, struggling to shrug on his clothes and lace his boots. Ron was a changed man, but he was still in the process of working through some insecurities, and his girlfriend shouting another man's name during sex probably didn't help very much.

Regardless, I followed him, having slipped on an oversized t-shirt for cover. It was the only thing I could find in all the chaos. I couldn't risk leaving things on such a horrible note.

"I — I'm sorry," I apologized, for what felt like the thousandth time within one, maybe two minutes. "Please, you have to believe me. Nott means nothing. Less than nothing. I love you. I want to be with you."

Ron paused for a moment and faced me. I expected anger, but the expression on his face was far from angry. It was closer to disappointment — which was infinitely worse. "Do you think I want to end things like this?" he asked. "Do you think I want to give up?"

"Please listen_ —_"

"I don't want to do this at all," he furthered, causing warmth to pool over my chest at the chance that we could still be together. "But I have no choice."

I stood there, silent and still, as he reached for the front door, and, without further word, left me hanging on the edge of his words. "Ron . . . " I whispered, teardrops rolling down my cheeks.

It was the worst case scenario, and it was caused by me, by my own secrets and my own idiocy. Ron had the decency to keep details of our breakup between us, which led to most people, including his own family, thinking he had been dumped by me. How wrong they were.

If I had my way, we would have moved in together and married within a year.

But, as we've learned, I'm a massive idiot.

I cried that night. In fact, I cried most nights for the next four months. Before then, I had never been dumped. Ron wasn't my first sexual partner but he _was_ my first boyfriend. I didn't know how to cope or what to do, when memories came flooding back. It didn't help that he had left a ton of his belongings in my flat, most of which I had to pack in boxes and leave at the Burrow for him to pick up. It was foolish to me, the fact that we couldn't spend a couple minutes together, long enough to exchange our things, but he wanted space.

I understood and respected his wishes.

Did I mention I hated being Gryffindor?

If I had kept my mouth shut, we would have moved in together and walked off into the sunset without a care in the world. It would have been great, but it would also have been a lie. Ron broke up with me, not because he was insecure over me sharing my first time with another person, but because, after three years, this person was still on my mind — as evidenced.

I was very much in love Ron, but it was clear to me that I didn't love him as much as I thought I did, or, admittedly, as much as he loved me.

It was a rocky end to our relationship. I hated myself for what I did, but I had to move on, especially after he moved on with Daphne Greengrass. I'm sure I've mentioned her before — tall, slim, beautiful, and very, very Slytherin.

Did I mention she was rich?

Nonetheless, it seemed Ron would carry on his pureblood lineage. I'm certain this was coincidence, but there was no telling. Daphne had changed him in a lot of ways, and it was clear to me that the Ron I had grown to know and care about was in the past.

Suddenly, he wore nice clothes and shaved his beard — _and_ made the effort to eat like a civilized human being. Sorcery. Absolute sorcery.

I tried for years to clean him up, but his hygiene was no longer my concern.

It seemed everyone — apart from me — had moved on with their lives, including my best friends.

**Four Years Later**

_You are cordially invited _

_to the wedding celebration_

_of _

_Harry Potter & Ginevra Weasley _

I tucked the invitation card into the confines of my purse and crossed the glistening street. Several vehicles honked at me. It was pouring rain, and I had no idea how to get to the dress shop Ginny had picked out for her bridesmaids. By some strange twist of fate, she had chosen me to be her maid of honour and although I was honoured, I had no time to spare.

I was swamped with work, and the Auror Department needed me as much as my friends did. I could only imagine what Harry must have been going through, being the groom _and _first officer to Kingsley.

It wasn't an ideal time for a wedding, but neither Harry nor myself, could hold off on our part in this joyous occasion. In realizing this, I left the office about one hour early and traveled through Muggle London, in search of the dress shop. It wasn't typical to choose a Muggle designer for ones wedding, but the designer in question was a squib whom Ginny had met during a photo shoot for _Quidditch Weekly_.

Did I forget to mention? Ginny went pro about two weeks after she graduated from Hogwarts. She made headlines and front covers at least once or twice a month and was compared to the likes of veteran Quidditch players (Viktor Krum, being one of them). She was no longer known for being Harry Potter's girlfriend turned fiancee. She was now an icon in her own right.

Along with her newfound fame, came massive, massive perks; being close friends with one of the top designers in London was one of them.

I entered the dress shop, drenched from head to toe, and instantly felt out of place. It was not my scene, not at all, but I had to remember I was doing this for Ginny.

Ginny's designer, a man called Benoit, clicked his tongue at me — or rather, the fact that I had spent about three seconds in his shop and already ruined the cream carpet with my soaking wet shoes. It was not a good day to wear suede oxfords.

"Miss Granger, I presume?"

I'm not sure what I expected when I heard about him, but an American accent was not it. I nodded my head, like a student called out for bad behaviour, and followed him to the area with the fitting rooms. It was a nice shop, filled with loads of neutral colours and fancy light fixtures to trick people into thinking they had beautiful skin and looked gorgeous in their overpriced dresses.

I wanted nothing more than to try on the dress and leave, and perhaps grab a bite at the _Nando's _down the street.

Part of me wondered if Benoit had ever stepped foot inside a restaurant as common as _Nando's_.

"Mind the drapes!" he told me, as I mistakenly brushed my soaking wet hair along the eggshell divider drapes that hung from ceiling to floor in the fitting room area.

My guess was no.

(Small rant: I've always been bothered by fitting rooms without proper doors and proper locks, to make sure overly eager sales assistants don't come barging in whilst I'm clad in nothing but granny panties and a worn out bra. It happened once, but we don't speak of such horrible things.

I had recurring nightmares for weeks — _weeks._)

I cringed thinking about the _TopShop _incident and followed Benoit into the fitting room farthest from the entrance. It seemed he was ready to start and end this fitting session as much as me, which made for a quick reveal.

Benoit unzipped the dress cover and revealed the garment Ginny had chosen for me — her maid of honour. It was, without a doubt, the most beautiful dress I'd ever seen. I felt bad knowing it would go on _me_ in about thirty seconds. Benoit seemed to share this sentiment, because he carefully explained how to put on the dress without tearing the seams or detonating the dress bomb that was hidden under the skirt in case the wearer was a peasant.

I kid.

Despite myself, I carefully closed the divider drape and shrugged out of my clothes at top speed, whilst taking my time with the dress. It was a beautiful blush rose colour, made of the softest chiffon. Perfect for a summer wedding. I longed to run the streets in this dress and have the skirts flowing behind me, caught in the breeze, but doing so would probably have given Benoit a heart attack. I opted for a simple twirl in the confines of the fitting room and surprisingly enough, giggled.

It seemed Benoit heard my giggle, because he signalled for me to come outside and show him whether or not I was worthy of something so impossibly gorgeous.

"Miss Granger? Have you tried on the dress?"

"Y — Yes," I stuttered, spelling my hair dry and taking a deep breath, before stepping outside and in front of the large triple mirror.

Benoit, dressed completely in black in contrast to the decor, gaped at me. It was less of an open-mouthed look of disgust than I'd imagined. In fact, the longer he looked at me, the more I began to think he thought I looked _good _in his creation.

It seemed he approved, judging by the way he clapped his hands together like a dance instructor. I took this as my cue to give him a twirl and was met with another clap, this time one of excitement.

"I've done it again_,_" he thought out loud, adjusting the dress here and there. "I've created a masterpiece_._"

It was around then that I snapped out of my Disney princess fantasy and watched as Benoit went over to bring one of his assistants to tailor the dress to me. It was a near perfect fit, which rarely happened, what with all the _Nando's _and ice cream binges, but there were still some adjustments to make. It was a little long for me — given my height of 5'5" — and a little too deep around the neckline.

Through my peripheral vision, I saw Benoit's assistant come traipsing over in all black with his head down. I was still a little glamoured by the dress, so it took a moment for me to give this assistant a proper look — and when I did, let me tell you, _shit hit the fan_.

I gasped and spun away, trying to cover my face.

If I hadn't been so caught off guard, I would taken note of the fact that the young man who bullied me throughout my adolescence for being 'less than' was now on his knees, fitting a dress to me.

Benoit came back. "Gorgeous! Simply gorgeous!"

His assistant remained silent and barely looked at me. It was only when he reached the front of the dress that he was forced to acknowledge me, and the fact that I was _visibly_ embarrassed.

Benoit was none of the wiser, offering his estimates here and there.

It was much, much worse than the _TopShop _incident. I would have taken a million _TopShop _incidents over this, any day of the week. I tried to take my mind off of it and silently wondered if Ginny had known our old nemesis worked at her favourite dress shop. Probably not. Benoit probably helped her himself, given their close acquaintance.

Regardless, I was still standing in front of a triple mirror with my hair frizzier than it was after a night out with Jill, whilst the bane of my existence tugged and pinned the fabric over and around my body. Oh, yes, this was not a dress that favoured bras, which made for a particularly awkward moment, when my body decided to respond to the nervous feeling in my gut.

It was then, and only then, that he looked me in the eyes.

"Cold?" he asked, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

I literally could have died right then and there, but Benoit was a complete mate and stepped in to make some corrections around the neckline. Despite my relief, his assistant decided to linger, catching me look at him in the mirror every now and then. I recognized him, of course, but he looked different than how I remembered. His hair was still pale blonde and his clothes were still black from head to toe, but he didn't look as wraithlike as I remembered.

I swallowed hard and forced myself to focus on what Benoit was doing, but the mortification had yet to leave my bloodstream.

I decided then that I would have words with Ginny.


	6. Chapter 6 (Revised)

**Author's Note: Chapter Six!**

* * *

><p>The rain cleared up around ten minutes after my fitting. I had originally planned to go back to the office and squeeze in some last minute work, but there was a certain 'friend' with whom I needed to speak — to interrogate, more like.<p>

I raced to the gym in mine and Ginny's apartment building and found her on one of the wizarding exercise contraptions. It was shaped like an elliptical machine and shouted abuse at weaklings, like a proper trainer.

"Hermione?" the redhead exclaimed, popping both earphones out. "I'm thrilled you've finally decided to join me, but those clothes are a little out of place for the gym, don't you think?"

I glanced down at my damp office clothes and made a face. "I'm not here to work out."

Ginny's mouth made an o-shape, and she quickly changed the machine to a slower speed. "Is something wrong?"

There were several others at the gym that afternoon, most of whom recognized us and whispered to one another. It was no secret that I, Hermione Granger, had never stepped foot in any gym, as I was afflicted with incurable laziness, but I hardly thought my presence should have garnered such a strong reaction.

It appeared Ginny noticed my worried looks, because she turned off the machine and ushered me to a more private area around the corner.

"What's wrong?" she asked, glistening from her workout, like a proper goddess. "Is it the dress? Did you not like it?"

"It's not about the dress," I quickly answered, fearing she would choose another. I was already so attached to the blush rose one. "It's — erm — It's Benoit's assistant."

"Assistant?" Ginny repeated, perplexed. "I didn't know he had one."

There it was, the answer. She had no idea.

It was mortifying enough, being fitted to a designer dress, whilst the tailor mumbled all every imperfections under his or her breath, but for that tailor to be Draco Malfoy was something else entirely.

I exhaled, rather deeply, having worked myself into a panic the entire way home. "You won't believe me when I tell you."

"Now you have to tell me," she demanded. "Was it the assistant? Was the assistant a guy? Was the assistant fit?"

"Er —" I choked on my breath a little. "Yes, biologically-speaking, and no, not in a million years."

She tossed a quizzical look at me, facing screwing into odd expressions as she tried to decipher the jumble of words I had given her. "Translation?"

I leaned in, and whispered the answer into her ear, fearing Rita Skeeter had bugged our building again and that my horrific dress shop experience would end up on the front page of the tabloids.

"You're joking!" Ginny squealed, a note of humour in her shocked-filled eyes.

I grimaced. "I'm glad you're amused, but that fitting happened to be the most horrific experience of my life, _including_ the Second Wizarding War."

She titled her head sideways, jokingly. "Lighten up. It's not everyday our precious ferret does peasant work."

Despite my attitude, this did make me laugh. Having him tailor a dress to me was poetic justice in its truest form.

"He did a bang up job," I admitted. "Hid my pouch and everything."

"First of all, you don't have a pouch. Second, did he speak to you at all?"

I shook my head, having left out the bit about my nipples poking holes through the chiffon — well, not literally. "At first, I didn't think he recognized me, but then he had that smirk on his face. You know the one."

Ginny nodded fast, as she had also been on the receiving end of it. "I wouldn't worry too much. I bet he was equally mortified. Last I heard, he was in America doing freelance work. A _muggle_ dress shop is completely out of character, no?"

"Looks like he wants to keep a low profile," I furthered.

"I wonder…" she questioned, slipping into thought.

I wondered, too, but I figured there weren't an abundance of employers willing to hire an ex Death Eater in Wizarding Britain. Plus, working in a Muggle dress shop played to his advantage, in proving he had nothing against non magic folk, despite his affiliation with the Dark Lord.

The Malfoy clan were pardoned for their crimes, but their fortune had been wiped out by the Ministry, for reparations and the like, leaving them high and dry. It was one of my first cases in the Auror Department, excavating Malfoy Manor for clues pertaining to active Death Eaters and sympathizers.

Draco, of course, had not been present, nor were his parents. In fact, I had no idea the investigation on him and his family had come to an end. Before the horrific dress shop incident, the last time I had seen him was the Battle of Hogwarts.

Different time. Different life, entirely.

I held nothing against him, but running into him in the dress shop was a surprise — and not the good kind. I figured, because he had the experience of growing up wealthy, he inevitably knew a thing or two about fashion and design.

Perhaps he was new at Benoit's and that's why Ginny hadn't known about him.

Either way, the wedding date was inching closer and closer, and I had one more appointment at the dress shop. The second time, I made sure to wear something other than monochrome business clothes and soaked, suede shoes.

It was scheduled a couple days after my conversation with Ginny, and through her advice, I decided I wouldn't pay Ferret Boy a second of attention. If I showed his presence didn't faze me, perhaps he would stop trying so hard. I couldn't decide which was worse, the fact that I had run into him at all, or the fact that I had to go back and pretend he didn't make me feel like a minger nerd all over again.

His shrewd, calculated, puke-coloured orbs would see right through me, surely, but I had no choice.

I sauntered through the doors of the dress shop (the actual name of which has now slipped my mind) and found the front empty.

"Er —" I froze, mid-step, nearly tripping over the heels Ginny had given me for the occasion. "Is anyone here?"

There were several soundless seconds, wherein I hurried to check my day planner to make sure I'd arrived at the correct time. I was scheduled for an afternoon appointment on the first Thursday of the month — and there I was.

Then, after one excruciatingly long minute, there was movement coming from the fitting area. I waited at the front of the shop like a lost tourist and cursed myself for putting actual effort into my appearance. If I wanted to show Ferret Boy didn't faze me, I should have shown up the same as last time.

Alas, it was too late to turn back and have a change.

Benoit's tall, blond-haired assistant turned the corner and found me, standing there like a complete and utter twat.

As if on cue, those puke-coloured eyes scanned me from head to toe, shrinking my confidence to the size of a peanut, before he beckoned me towards him. "Right this way."

I followed and made sure to keep at least seven feet of distance between us at all times, as he escorted me to the same fitting room as before. This time, the dress was altered to my shape, waiting for me. I couldn't help the excitement in my chest, wondering what it would look like now that it was ready. It was a brilliant feeling, enough to eliminate the growing tension in my muscles.

Without further word, his royal pain-in-the-arse left me alone and walked off to do Godric knows what.

I didn't care.

Instead, I shut the divider and slipped into the dress, sighing with sheer joy as the chiffon brushed my bare skin and complemented me in ways nothing had ever done. I decided then that Ginny had exceptional taste and, if ever the situation arose, that she would choose a wedding dress for me.

(Still waiting on that one)

It was around my twelfth twirl that I heard someone from the other side.

"I need to see if the fit is okay," he voiced, rather bored.

I tried my absolute best to ignore the tightness in my chest and reluctantly stepped outside, in front of the triple mirror. It was a crime to me, that he could be so indifferent considering what had happened in the past, but I supposed indifference was better than his old behaviour.

I stood there and waited for him to say or do something, but all he did was look at the dress, standing roughly three feet behind me.

"Is . . . something wrong with it?" I asked, feeling stupid.

Instead of responding to me like a normal human being, he resolved to scrutinize me even harder and make me feel like an even bigger twat.

Impossible, seeing as I had reached my daily limit.

Then, in an unexpected maneuver, he moved closer to me and brushed my long hair aside, before dragging the zipper that ran down the back of the dress all the way up. I had forgotten, until then, that I hadn't zipped myself. Suddenly, the fit hugged me all around my torso. I stood there, in front of the mirror, and smiled a little. It was nice wearing something that took my curves and made them look presentable — sexy, even.

"There," he remarked, pleased with his work, though not enough to give me the impression he thought I looked good. "You can go now."

"Er —" I raised both eyebrows. "Right, then."

**_Three Hours Later_**

Harry snorted with laughter, as I drowned my feelings in pint after pint. It was not usual for him to be so loud, but it appeared my recent experiences with Draco Malfoy were too hilarious to resist. To my astonishment, Ginny hadn't told him about the first bit, but that was probably due to her rigorous training schedule. She was off-season, but that didn't mean she had the liberty of losing her shape.

Plus, there was the wedding to consider.

"To be fair, he's probably more scared of you than you are of him," Harry added, wiping laugh-tears from his eyes.

I grimaced. "First of all, I'm not scared of him. Second, he's not a house fly!"

The Chosen One arched an eyebrow. "You're scared of house flies?"

"That's not the point," I countered, frustrated, though a little amused myself. "I'm just thankful I'll never have to deal with him again. Good riddance." With that, I downed another pint, earning the attention of several patrons at the pub.

"Erm . . . about that," Harry started, scratching the back of his head, as though he had done something wrong. "It won't be the last time."

I shot a sharp look at him. "Excuse me?"

He swallowed. "I — I invited him to the wedding and he's definitely going to be there — but it's fine because you'll have us and your date and —"

"SHIT!"

The young man panicked. "Hermione? What's going on? What's happening? Are you okay? Do you need to see a Healer? Should I take you home? Have you —"

"Shit, shit, shit!"

I had now, quite successfully, earned everyones attention and was left with one resounding realization.

"Hermione, tell me what's —"

"A date," I muttered, sinking into my chair. "I've been so busy at work that I forgot to secure a date for the wedding — and I'm the sodding Maid of Honour!"

Harry breathed out, sighing with relief. "Don't worry about it. Ginny told me you haven't sorted out your date, so I sorted one out for you."

I glanced up, with mingled misery and intrigue. "I'm listening . . . "

"Just show up to the wedding and your date will be there. He's one of the groomsmen."

"Wait, so . . . you expected me to be dateless?"

This time, Harry grimaced. "No," he countered. "I expected you to have worked yourself into exhaustion, leaving no time to sort out a date for yourself."

I smiled a little, knowing this was at least a little true. "Do I know this person?"

"You do," he answered, awfully ambiguous. "He went to Hogwarts with us."

"Wait, it's not —"

"It's not Ron," he interjected. "Daphne would kill me."

"True," I added, rather cheekily, thankful that I had friends to look out for me. I then raised my glass and made a toast. "To Harry Potter, for recognizing a dateless minger when he sees one!"

He laughed and clinked glasses with me, after which we drank ourselves into unspeakable states of drunken-ness.

**_One Week Later_**

Does anyone remember that scene from the 1995 adaptation of Casper? It's the one at the very end. Kat is sitting all alone, in a room filled with people dancing, and suddenly a handsome stranger approaches her and takes her hand. It's so sweet and so tender, and exactly how I imagined the wedding would be — for me and my mystery date.

This is what really happened:

I, along with the rest of the wedding party, stood at the altar, dressed in blush rose with my hair in soft curls, and watched as Ginny walked down the aisle with her arm hooked around Arthur's. It was, perhaps, the most touching moment I had ever witnessed, and I admit, I _did_ tear up.

I then looked at Harry and found that he had tears in his eyes, as well.

I couldn't help but be proud of my friends, for overcoming so much and making it to this occasion. They had come so far from the awkward teenagers I had known in Hogwarts. They were now adults and this was their wedding.

It was a moving ceremony, filled with sniffles from the audience — most notably Molly Weasley — and short, sweet vows spoken from the heart.

I found I didn't even care that Ronald and Daphne were there. I paid them no mind. This wasn't about me, this was about our friends. Though, as soon as the ceremony drew to the final phase, it hit me.

I glanced across, to the groomsmen, and found Ronald, along with Neville, George and, surprisingly enough, Dudley.

Something didn't add up.

All four of those groomsmen already had dates, as I had seen them enter with girls on their arms. Yes, even Dudley. I narrowed my eyes in thought, and spent the last few moments of the ceremony wondering where on earth my date could be — and then it happened.

Before the Official could speak his final words, thereby declaring Harry and Ginny a married couple under wizarding law, there was a ruckus near the doors.

I turned, with everyone else, and joined in their collective gasp.

It appeared there was another groomsmen, one who had only just arrived, late and apologizing the whole way down.

Oliver Wood.

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><p><strong>Oh, snap! I wasn't lying when I said Hermione would be paired with pretty much everyone haha. Anyway, thanks for reading. Tell me what you think! <strong>


	7. Chapter 7 (Revised)

**Author's Note: Chapter Seven!**

* * *

><p>I forgot to mention something in the earlier chapters of this memoir.<p>

I had massive, uncontrollable crushes on not one, but _two _Gryffindor Keepers during my time at Hogwarts. As we all know, one of them was Ronald. The other one, however, started and ended in my Third Year, as the Keeper in question was much older than me and had graduated before I properly hit puberty.

I often went to the Quidditch Pitch to watch Harry during his practices. It was then that I noticed someone else on the team, another star player. I couldn't help myself, really. He was the Captain of the team, and not in an arrogant, 80's film sense, but in a strong, confident sense. I saw him whip that team into shape and take Gryffindor to victory.

A proud, proud moment.

His name, of course, was Oliver Wood, and he was deliciously Scottish.

Bearing that in mind, here's what happened after he stumbled late into the altar:

In the aftermath of the last groomsman's arrival, the ceremony went forth and ended with a romantic kiss at the altar between the bride and groom, after which the wedding guests were ushered into the outdoor reception area to witness the first dance.

It was an intimate dance, accented by the lush, romantic atmosphere.

There were red roses on every table and petals across the dance floor, as Harry and Ginny floated to the rhythm of 'You are' by Mree feat. Jared Foldy

I watched with tears falling down my face. It was a long time coming, and for all of us to be granted the chance to witness such a magical moment was nothing short of a miracle, considering everything we had survived.

Others followed and moved to the dance floor as the song commenced, and as Harry and Ginny switched partners. Ginny danced with Arthur, and Harry stood watching and smiling. It was then that it hit me, Harry didn't have a mother with whom he could dance. The moment more tears began to fall down my face, at the realization that James and Lily were undoubtedly watching from above, was the moment Harry found me in the sidelines and right then, I knew.

I laughed and cried happy tears as we danced to the song and avoided stepping on one another's feet — by milliseconds.

Ginny then danced with Ronald, and for a moment it felt as though our group was whole again, as if the growing distance between us was only temporary.

It was a nice moment, one that I still look back on.

But, as with most wedding receptions, there was a celebration to be had and I knew for a fact that Harry and Ginny wanted their guests to have a good, _not-so memorable_ time, if you catch my drift.

The music changed.

The atmosphere changed.

It went from lush to lively. The dance floor was soon packed with couples and singles, dancing to their hearts' content. Jillian would probably have been right in the middle, jumping up and down in a craze, like she did at Reading Festival.

Good times. Good times.

It was around five minutes after the party started that I noticed someone at the open bar — clad in black dress robes, with a familiar glint in his eyes as he noticed me and came over.

I was into him all over again.

"Hermione Granger_,_" he whispered to me, though it was more of a shout since the music was so loud. "I haven't seen you in ages_._"

Part of me was glad it had been ages, since it gave me time to develop in certain places and make sure he _definitely _noticed me, but another part of me was too enraptured in the music and the moment to comprehend those thoughts.

Sensing this, Oliver held his arm out and waited for me to secure mine around it, before leading me to an emptier part of the dance floor, where we danced to a fun, happy song. It was like the Yule Ball all over again — Quidditch star, included.

I laughed with him and giggled in girlish glee as he twirled me, and showed me the moves he had been hiding all those years at Hogwarts. I had always known him to be punctual and serious — and seriously gorgeous — which made his tardiness to the wedding an absolute shock, but I figured he had a good reason.

Oliver moved closer to me after the fifth song came to an end, and whisper-shouted something else, as the sixth song started. "Harry lied to me!"

"What?" I asked, placing my arms on his and leaning forward.

"Harry lied to me_,_" he repeated. "He said you turned into a serious, crime-fighting Auror, but you're too much fun for that!"

I laughed at this and whisper-shouted something in response. "I can be both!"

Oliver laughed along with me, having kept some distance between us, despite our dancing, and finally brought me closer with his hands on the sides of my waist. He then bent down a little and asked me something I had wanted to hear all evening. "Do you know about the view from upstairs?"

Now, ladies, these sorts of questions are generally frowned upon as they are filled to the brim with clumsy, sexual undercurrents, but you must understand that I was young, frustrated and very, very deprived.

"No_,_" I answered. "Maybe you should show me_._"

There was a look on Oliver's face, one that I could only describe as consumed. It had been a long since I had seen that look on anyone, and I was more than ready. I placed my hand in his and we made motion to leave the dance floor, if only for a short while, when suddenly the music changed again — but this time to a classical number.

Ginny's voice came through. "Everyone, I invite you join as we continue my family's wedding tradition and partake in an English country dance. First, I'd like to invite those in the wedding party to demonstrate."

I must have turned a bright shade of red — embarrassment, not anger — because the hold Oliver had on my hand tightened a little, as if to tell me he was in a similar predicament. Due to my hectic schedule, I had only made one of the dance lessons Ginny had scheduled for the wedding party. It was then that I realized I was a terrible bridesmaid and an even worse Maid of Honour.

Harry located me, attuned to my disposition, and waved me onto the dance floor. I reluctantly made my way over and stood in a circle with the others, an equally nervous Oliver Wood beside me. I figured he'd been too busy with Quidditch to make the dance lessons.

I then reminded myself Ron was there, and that I couldn't possibly be a worse dancer than him.

The music was light and carried echoes of the countryside, along with the dance that we were about to do. I won't go into too much detail, but I will say it's the one that starts in a circle, involves a bit of hopping, and some Jane Austen-inspired partner switches here and there.

I knew the last bit would prove to be a bit awkward, where Ron was concerned, but I tried not to think about that.

Resigned to go forth with this dance, I focused on the song and the steps and was delighted as Oliver messed up before me. Both of us laughed and tripped a little, hushed as Ginny tossed us a scornful look. I dragged an invisible zipper across my lips, which only made Oliver laugh more, but we had moved away from Ginny and Harry, by that point.

I casually glanced at the other couples and noticed Neville and Luna dancing as if in their own universe, Ron trying very hard to focus on the steps that Daphne whispered to him under her breath, George and Angelina inventing their own steps and receiving praise from their friends in the crowd, whilst, to my surprise, there was no Dudley in sight.

It appeared he and his girlfriend had opted out of the dance, a luxury that I had not been granted.

Instead, they were replaced with another couple, one that danced with poise that I had only seen in films and read about in books. To my astonishment, this couple was none other than Daphne's younger sister, Astoria, and her date.

It was difficult to pin him at first, what with all the spinning and hopping and switching of partners, but the moment I moved on to George, I saw.

Through some strange twist of fate, he noticed me at that exact moment and locked my gaze. It was sheer luck that I didn't trip up during this exchange, because my eyes were not focused on my feet or the placement of my hands. I saw only the tall, puke-eyed assistant from the dress shop. Under the floating lanterns above us, those eyes didn't look puke-coloured at all. Less of a dull grey, and more of a . . . silvery . . . thing . . .

I was in such a trance that I had switched to the next dance partner, then forced into the final transition.

His arms criss crossed with mine, one near the small of my back and the other near my front, and the same vice versa. It was a tangle of arms with the others, but he appeared to be a practiced dancer. He knew the correct timing and the correct movement to suit the rise and fall of the instrumental.

This bit moved in slow motion — at least, for me — seeing as the world loved to place me in awkward situations and torture me for the hell of it.

Instead of caving under the pressure, I kept a straight face and made sure I didn't break, but only because he expected me to.

His hands, admittedly, were softer than I had imagined. In fact, I'm not sure what I had imagined — scales, perhaps?

Either way, this dance not only served as a source of many whispers from the other people watching us, but also some worried looks from Oliver.

I realized then that everyone was not only watching but _staring _at us, whispering things to one another, going so far as to point out the fact that Hermione Granger, Muggle-born extraordinaire, was dancing with the Pureblood Prince himself; rather well, at that.

The moment I noticed this, was the moment the wedding party dispersed from the stage, making room for new couples to have a chance.

I quickly looked at him and felt my throat clench as he boldly leaned close forward and spoke actual words to me — like a normal person.

"Enjoy your night," he voiced, leaving me to stand there in a confused jumble as the song changed.

Ginny approached.

She looked from me to the place where Malfoy had sauntered off, and lifted her eyebrows. "Now _that_, was something_._"

I swallowed hard. "Tell me about it_._"

There was a confusing mix of emotions running through me.

From what happened at the dress shop, to getting pissed off my arse and whining about being single in the pub with Harry there to make fun and comfort me at the same time, to learning I had a wedding date with the guy I had dreamt about as a teenager, to being told about a 'view' that I simply _had to _see with him, to dancing with the boy I had once passionately hated, and, against all logic, realizing that I kind of enjoyed it.

Oliver came to me then, which Ginny took as her cue to leave, and he looked at me with those warm, gorgeous eyes. "Shall we?"

It took a moment for me to snap out of it. When I did, I nodded to him and locked my arm around his as we discreetly made left the are and made our way to the building in which the ceremony had been held.

It was an old Manor house from the Regency Era and looked like something straight out of a novel, but I wasn't there to ogle at the architecture or decor.

The entire way there, I could feel a particular set of eyes on me, but I paid them no mind.

Instead, I followed my date up one staircase and then another, until finally he led me out onto a rather romantic balcony setting, the English countryside below and the moon and stars glittering above.

"This _is_ a nice view_,_" I remarked, surprised.

Oliver chuckled. "What did you expect? A broom closet?"

"No…" I transitioned. "But I'll tell you what I did expect — hoped, even."

His eyes turned half-lidded, suddenly delirious. He then placed a single hand along the small of my back and another under my chin, bringing me closer.

I breathed in his scent of musk and crisp air, reminded of the Quidditch Pitch and the way he looked after a full morning of practice, eyes bright and cheeks flushed, with his abdominal muscles practically tearing through his uniform.

It was happening.

I wish I could have sent a telepathic alert to thirteen-year-old me to tell her that one day, she'd by overlooking the English countryside with Oliver Wood's hands all over her body and his lips kissing hers. It was a good moment to be me, and I immersed myself in it, responding to him through touch, as I wrapped my arms around his neck and then down his back, grazing his dress robes with my fingertips.

Oliver moaned — growled, really — and carried me to the ledge.

Both of us could hear music coming from below, where the guests were dancing and singing and laughing the night away, oblivious to us, but we weren't worried about being seen. The balcony was positioned at such an angle and so high up, that the only way we could possibly have been seen was if we were dangling off the side.

It was safe, I told myself.

It would be fine, I told myself.

"Your dress_,_" he said to me, directly over my lips.

His voice didn't carry the rising inflexion of a question, but I knew he was asking me something. Instead of answering him and telling him I didn't care about the dress and that he could tear it from my skin whenever he so pleased — preferably sooner rather than later — as the dress could always be mended with magic, I chose to tear the dress myself.

Well, it was more of a tug that tore a bit of the seam around the zipper area, but he definitely got the point.

Oliver grabbed bundles from either side of the dress and pulled, practically tearing the thing in half, erasing all the time and effort and work Ferret Boy had put into it.

What a shame.

Not.

I waited, with shortness of breath and a rise in body temperature, as Oliver quickly shrugged off his coat and popped the buttons on his shirt, revealing to me a torso I had imagined for the better part of my early adolescence.

Before I knew it, we were back at it, except this time there were no more clothes to be removed.

Oliver tore holes through my nylons, whilst I tugged at his tie, which had remained on, loosely around his neck. It made me feel like I was in control, that he was mine, and that the tie was his collar. _Shut up. _I tugged at it more and relished the way his muscles hardened at my touch.

Our bodies were pressed together, with his hands safely around my waist and mine traveling all over his chest — up and down and sideways. It was the longest I had ever waited to get what I wanted, and I decided I didn't want to wait anymore.

"I'll go slow_,_" he breathed out, kissing my neck.

"I appreciate your patience, but I'm not in the mood for slow."

The man eyed me and knew, without another second to spare, that I wanted him in every way _except _slow.

We moved pretty fast from there.

Before I realized what was happening, Oliver was between my legs, as I sat on the ledge, thrusting into me and against me with tremendous force. I forgot about the things that were stressing me out, and instead, focused on what was happening. It had been a long time since I last had sex, too long to put into words, but I knew I still had it when my date's movements grew faster and harder and more feverish.

I could hardly believe this was happening, but there was no time to ponder.

Oliver took my cues and tugged at my hair, light enough that it didn't hurt, but hard enough that it made blood rush to my skull and then, that out of body feeling.

I tensed up, edging closer and closer to the final stage.

I was close, so close I could taste it.

It was so long since I last orgasmed from someone else, and I wanted it more than ever, especially from him. I was on the edge. I was right on the edge. Just one more thrust and — and —

"Oliver_,_" I panted. "I — I —"

"Me, too_,_" he interjected, quite close himself.

But he wasn't close to the edge, not in the way I was.

"No, wait —" I shouted again, brushing the tips of my fingers along his long, strong arms as I slipped backwards and _literally_ tipped over the edge.

Oliver stared wide-eyed, as I fell, and scrambled to reach for me, watching as my body disappeared over the balcony railing, a fall from which I would surely have died, until finally, he was able to clasp his hands around my ankles, holding me as I danged along the side of the balcony.

It was safe, I told myself.

It would be fine, I told myself.

Those words. Those destructive words had led me to this moment, to the moment I ruined my best friends' wedding.

How, you may ask? Simple.

I wasn't _just_ dangling over the edge of the balcony, for all the wedding to witness in shock and horror. No. No, no, no. I was doing it in the nude. No dress. No knickers. Not even shoes. I instinctively closed my eyes and heard the gasps and whispers, and eventually, the sound of Harry's voice, as he tried to distract people and make them look elsewhere — the champ — but his efforts proved useless.

It was bad, though it may not shock you to learn it got much, much worse.

Oliver secured his grip on me, well on his way to pulling me up and away from public scrutiny, when suddenly, I heard the most horrific sound anyone could ever hope to hear in such a state.

It was the sound of a photograph being taken.

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><p><strong>Gosh, Hermione is such a derp lol. <strong>


	8. Chapter 8 (Revised)

**Author's Note: Chapter Eight!**

I didn't even orgasm.

If that wasn't the universe telling me that I'm doomed to live a cursed existence, then tell me what is.

Shudder.

It's been a decade since, and I still have nightmares about it, but I'm sure you're all wondering what followed my closing act.

I'll preface this by saying Harry and Ginny were as understanding as I had always known them to me, and they weren't at all cross with me. Harry had words with Oliver, of course, but that was the extent of it. It seemed their only concern was making sure I didn't leap from the top of Gringotts the next morning and that whomever had taken the photograph would be reprimanded for documenting the worst, most humiliating moment of my life.

But, as we've learned, the rest had yet to unfold.

**_Later That Night _**

It was around three hours after I passed out from six glasses of wine too many, that there was a knock on my front door. I groaned in frustration as the knocks persisted, and shouted abuse at whomever had the audacity to disturb me at such an ungodly hour. It was so soon after I had slept, that I was still a little tipsy from all the wine — and not in a fun way. I knew, without thinking, that it can't have been Ginny at the door, She and the groom had already left on their honeymoon, which left one enormous question mark where this visitor was concerned.

I gave up around three knocks later, and crawled on all fours from the lounge to the front door. It took one excruciating minute for me to get there, but the moment I did, I had a gander through the peephole and found a tall, blonde-haired young man waiting for me on the other side.

For a moment, I panicked, thinking he could see _me _through the peephole, and in turn the state of my hair along with the remains of my eye makeup. Let's not even start on the old, tattered robe fastened around my waist, one that I usually saved for dire situations — such as the first night of my period each month.

Don't judge.

I never claimed to be glamorous.

I did, however, have an irrefutable talent for landing myself in the strangest, most bizarre situations imaginable.

Bearing that and everything that happened over last week in mind, there was nothing I could do apart from open that door and satiate the nerves that had been building in my core for the past minute. Resolved to do just that, I took a deep breath and curved my hand around the doorknob, coming face to face with the man on the other side.

Standing there, dressed to the nines with not a single hair out of place, he reached into his pocket and handed me something.

It was a film canister.

**One Month Later **

"If it's any consolation, I thought your arse looked great_,_" Ginny offered, pouring some more tea as we sat in the garden of hers and Harry's new home in Godric's Hollow.

I grimaced, stirring a teaspoon of sugar into my cup, before taking a sip. It was a nice afternoon — the sun was out and the birds were chirping — but summer was almost over and I had spent the past month barricaded in my flat. There was no chance in hell I was ready to face public scrutiny so soon after the wedding. In realizing this, Kingsley — present at the reception — had given me leave from work, during which time I retreated to my books in complete solitude.

First, I read the entire works of Jane Austen. I, then, dove into the world of Middle Earth. Finally, I received a letter from Ginny. She and Harry were back from their honeymoon in the South of France. Given that we had much to discuss, she asked me to come over.

Little did she know, there was a startling development to the tale.

"You're hiding something from me_,_" she deduced, eyes narrow. "What is it? What happened?"

I swallowed, trying desperately to think of something to satiate her curiosity, but she knew me too well to fall for my usual tricks. Instead, I decided to tell her the truth and regaled what happened after the reception, leaving out the bit about me drinking myself into a coma.

"Wait_ —_" she paused, setting down her cup for safe measure. "Malfoy? As in, dress shop Malfoy?"

I nodded, still coming to terms with it myself. "It was so bizarre, he just showed up on my doorstep in the middle of the night and handed me a film canister."

"The one with the photograph_,_" she furthered.

"Yes, that one_._"

Ginny's eyes widened and then relaxed. "I knew it."

"Knew what?"

She gave me an obvious look. "Malfoy fancies you"

I leaned back against the chair, startled. "Pardon me?"

"Ferret Boy wants you_,_" Ginny furthered, smiling to herself. "I sensed it when you two danced, and now this."

"Impossible_,_" I countered, feeling heat prickle the area around my cheeks and neck. "I'm Muggle-born, remember?"

"So?"

"So he's an uppity, prejudiced little pureblood, who probably thinks less of me than the dirt on the bottom of his designer shoes_._"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You're forgetting something. Muggle dress shop, anyone?"

"Even so," I persisted. "How can we be sure Malfoy didn't take the photograph himself?"

"Because he was in the loo when it was taken_._"

My face screwed. "What?"

"You heard me right_,_" she confirmed. "Malfoy was the only one at that reception to have missed what happened, which means he can't have taken the photograph_._"

"_But —_"

"But nothing_,_" Ginny interjected. "It's clear that he found out who did it and heroically stole the evidence, leaving it to you. Quite thoughtful, if you think about it_._"

I fell silent.

"Plus_,_" she furthered. "He simply couldn't tear his eyes away from you the entire night, could he?"

"Ginny," I frowned. "He has a girlfriend_._"

"Girlfriend? Oh! You mean Daphne's little sister_._"

"_Y_es — the tall, thin, gorgeous one_._"

"Astoria isn't his girlfriend," Ginny clarified, laughing a little. "Malfoy took her to the wedding because she was jealous that Daphne was going_._"

I arched an eyebrow. "…and you know this how?"

"Daphne told me_,_" the redhead answered. "She's actually quite pleasant_._"

"Yeah?"

Ginny nodded. "You should come out with us some time."

"Wouldn't that be…awkward?"

"Maybe, but it's better you squash whatever tension there is until it festers_._"

I considered this and shrugged, drinking the rest of my tea.

It had been a long time, almost four years since mine and Ron's breakup. Part of me was over it, but another part of me still harboured some feelings for him. After knowing one another so long, it was difficult for me to up and forget about him and pretend like I hadn't felt anything.

However, I couldn't hide from my problems anymore. I had to fix things, and befriending Daphne seemed like a fine idea.

**Later That Night**

There was a nice breeze out, as I moved from the kitchen to the terrace with a glass of red wine and my silk robe flowing behind me. I quite liked the night, and all that came with it — stars and moon and echo for more. I breathed in and out, thinking distantly of what could happen, and how bad I wanted it, until I heard movement behind me.

It wasn't aggressive or dangerous; though it did carry with it an air of mystery.

I turned, and before I could distinguish the identity of this mystery man, I felt his palms on my breasts and his lips against mine, kissing me feverishly and without restraint.

It should have alarmed me, but it didn't.

Instead, I lifted one leg around his waist and tilted my head back, allowing him to devour me under the midnight sky.

"I've always wanted this_,_" he whispered, reaching inside my robe.

Something tingled between my legs, and I moaned against his lips. "Take me_,_" I begged. "Right here. Right now_._"

The man, blonde-haired and smoky-eyed, spread me across the grass and took me to far, unimaginable places, bringing me to an earth shattering, mind numbing, life changing climax that rippled through my body over and over and over again, tidal wave after tidal wave of pleasure, with one name on my lips, one name to echo the desire burning deep in my chest.

Seconds later, I awoke — head flat against my desk and a puddle of drool around the corner of my mouth. It appeared I had fallen asleep after coming home from Ginny's, but that wasn't the worst part.

No, not even a little.

I swallowed hard and wiped the drool from my mouth.

_Did I just have a sex dream about Malfoy? _


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I made some timing changes. **

**Instead of being 19, Hermione is 23 during all the wedding stuff. Feel free to go back and read the other chapters to get a better grasp. **

**I've also changed some things in the description. Instead of being 30-something, I've made her edging 30. (around 28/29)**

**These changes are due to pacing issues. I felt the story was progressing too fast for someone so young. **

**Everything else is the same.**

* * *

><p>I took one, hard look in my bedroom mirror, and cringed. It was no good. I would never find something suitable to wear; not on such short notice. I considered sending Daphne a cancelation letter, claiming I had personal matters or important Auror business that needed tending to — but even the slightest chance that she would misconstrue such a thing as something to do with Ron was enough to keep me from doing so.<p>

It was clear to me, that I had no choice.

I had to go.

I had to show the world I wasn't bothered by Rita Skeeter's public crusade against me — and attending the annual Harvest Moon celebration at the Greengrass Estate would certainly make that statement. If there was one thing the Greengrass' were known for, it was their reputation for being the wealthiest, most envied pureblood family in Britain.

Meaning: I owed it to myself to attend this gathering and see what all the fuss was about. The invitation alone was probably worth more than my rent each month. It was smooth and sleek, and carried with it three beautiful words.

_No cameras allowed_

In this moment of clarity, there was just one problem, one facet I had overlooked.

It somehow hadn't occurred to me that Daphne could still be friends with a certain someone — _or _that he would be there.

**Three Hours Later **

There were no floating lanterns or country dances at the Harvest Moon party. There were no autumn decorations either. It was less about reaping and gathering and leaves changing colours, and more about _interpretations _of all those things. I swear to you, it was like I had stepped foot into the modern art museum from hell. Oh, and did I mention dress code? I showed up dressed in an apple red cocktail number with maple leaf earrings (that I can assure you were adorable) whilst everyone else was dressed in neutrals.

Had it not been for the open bar, the nerves in my gut would without a doubt have multiplied tenfold. I stood there, feeling eyes drift to me on a second-to-second basis. I did what I could to ignore the stares, knowing people recognized me and undoubtedly wondered why on earth the famed Greengrass family had permitted a desperate, depraved sex fiend such as myself to attend their gathering.

I mean, I couldn't argue with the last bit — but _desperate? _

Rita Skeeter had been reaching when she published that. I'm sure even her uptight arse couldn't argue with the fact that there was nothing desperate about having sex with Oliver Wood.

But those events were far from my mind.

I turned, champagne in hand, and spotted Harry and Ginny chatting with some old bloke from the Russian Ministry. _No, thanks._ I, then, glanced about ten feet from them and spotted Ronald on the other side of the courtyard — alone. It wasn't the ideal setting, but another reason I had attended the party was to put an end to the silence between us. As fate would have it, the moment I mustered enough confidence to approach him for the first time in over four years, was the same moment I felt a tap on my shoulder.

Around that time, the background instrumental turned louder, echoing the raucous beat in my chest as I fixed my attention on the source of the tap.

I glanced up and simultaneously stumbled backwards — startled.

If there was one person I did not expect to see at this gathering, it was the young man standing across from me. I expected blonde hair and smoky grey eyes, but this young man had dark hair and crisp, blue eyes.

"_NOTT?_" I blinked, staring at him.

Those crisp, blue eyes danced across me from head to toe. "_Granger,_" he greeted, wearing the same sideways grin from seven years ago. "_Nice earrings._"

I grimaced. "_Thanks a bunch._"

Nott smiled, but didn't laugh. "_Tell me,_" he then said. "_What have you been up to all this time?_"

"_Apart from hanging on balconies in the nude?_" I asked, casually sipping from my champagne flute. "_Nothing, really…_"

This time, he did laugh. "_I was afraid to mention that._"

I arched an eyebrow, tossing him an obvious look. "_Why? Nothing you haven't seen before._"

There was a distinct change in his expression, but it lasted only a moment before his usual calm, mellow vibe returned. I then fell into step with him, as we made our way from the bar to the other side of the courtyard, away from prying eyes.

"_So…_" I started, filling the silence. "_Do you…still…erm…_"

"_Smoke weed?_"

I nodded, panning around to gauge whether or not our conversation been overheard.

Nott stared at me, amused. "_I don't have any on me right now, but I'm sure Astoria has something we can take once the bonfire is lit._"

"_Bonfire?_" I repeated. "_Sounds…a little sacrificial, if I'm honest._"

He laughed. "_Well, you are at a pureblood gathering…_"

"…_and I am the only Muggle-born here…_"

"_…put two and two together and…_"

I laughed with him, unable to hold back any longer. "_Please tell me none of that was serious._"

"_Guess you'll have to wait and see,_" he teased, hands in his pockets, turning to look at me every now and then, as we continued to walk. "S_hit. I think I've actually missed you._"

"_Actually?_" I repeated, rolling my eyes. "_How touching._"

"_I'm serious,_" he chuckled, nudging me a little. "_I've been wanting to get back in touch with you for ages but…I didn't know your situation with Weasley._"

For a moment, I had no idea what Nott was talking about. "_Oh,_" I realized. "_You didn't know we —_"

"_Broke up_," he finished. "_Should I even ask?_"

"_No,_" I quickly said. "_There isn't enough alcohol in this hemisphere to get me drunk enough to tell you that story._"

"_Oh really?_"

"_Yes, really._"

Nott flashed me a devilish look. "_Now I have to know._"

"_You really don't,_" I assured him, cursing myself for even bringing it up. "_Enough about me. Tell me what you've been up to all this time._"

"_There's nothing to tell, really. I've been in Healer School for ages._"

"_Healer School?_" I repeated, amazed. "_That's brilliant!_"

He smiled at my enthusiasm for academics, something we mirrored in one another. "_It will be, once I'm done._"

"_I'm eternally jealous. I was thinking about going to Healer School myself._"

"_You would love it_," he told me. "_It's all about revision and exams, with no socializing whatsoever._"

I glared at him. "_Funny._"

"_It's true,_" Nott laughed. "_No social life. No love life. Nothing._"

"_Wait, does that mean you've been single all this time?_"

His expression wavered a little. "_I dated Astoria for a couple months._"

"_What happened there?_"

"_She was into someone else._"

Something about the manner in which he spoke, told me there was more to the tale. "_Do I know this person?_"

Nott glanced across the courtyard, towards a large group of our former classmates, unbothered, as though this were old news. "_He's over there._"

I should have guessed this would happen — but the moment I turned to meet his line of vision, I was startled to find a pair of eyes already on me. These eyes stared between myself and Nott, as though determining our acquaintance. I swallowed hard and watched, recognizing the grey in those eyes and the edge that was so sharp, it all but knocked the air from my lungs.

"_Marcus Flint,_" Nott remarked, dismissing my presumptions.

"_Wait —_" I paused, looking at him. "_She dumped _you_ for Marcus Flint?_"

He nodded slowly. "_Is that…unusual?_"

"_Marcus Flint has less personality than the glue that holds Pansy Parkinson's false eyelashes in place,_" I blurted, unabashedly. "…_whereas you're fun and intellectual and charming and witty and a fucking pleasure to be around — not to mention _**_that hair_**_._"

Nott flashed me an amused look. "_Did Hermione Granger just use the f-word?_"

"_Oh, please,_" I scoffed, unbeknownst to the person around the corner. "_I know for a fact you've heard me use that word at least — four times, was it?_"

"_Seven times easy,_" Nott countered, looking from me to the person behind me, in a flash. "_Draco! Mate, where the fuck have you been?_"

I blanched, looking behind me for a moment, before noticing a brush of blonde in my peripheral vision. I, then, turned away from them, listening to the old friends as they engaged in small talk and caught up with one another, before silence fell over their conversation and their attention drifted squarely to me. Again, the instrumental changed pace. This time, it turned slower, in rhythm with me as I reluctantly faced the young men. Nott stared at me with a curious look about his face, whilst his friend regarded me with enough cool indifference to give Sirius Black a run for his money.

"_Hi,_" I muttered to him.

The blonde scanned me up and down, undoubtedly criticizing the ensemble I had chosen for the occasion. "_Evening,_" he replied, rather terse.

Nott stared between us, with an arch in his brow. "_I'm sensing some tension here._"

"_There's no tension,_" we fired back, in unison.

"_Right…_" he cracked up. "_Well, I'm going to the bar if anyone needs me. You kids behave._"

I opened my mouth to stop him, to prevent this moment from happening, to do absolutely _anything — _but he was gone before a single word escaped my lips. I then glanced to the floor, refusing to look anywhere else. It was humiliating enough that I had dreamt about the prejudiced little shit, but to be left alone with him was absolute torture.

I thought distantly of the time he showed up on my doorstep with the film canister, as I had been too stunned at the time to say anything — even to thank him. It was only a month ago.

It seemed he was equally speechless, because the silence between us carried on for an excruciating three minutes, until finally he decided to speak to me using words that consisted of more than one syllable.

"_Those earrings are rather…festive,_" he remarked.

I swallowed hard, cheeks flaming hot. "_I'll just — yeah —_" I made motion to take the damned things off, going for the backings, before freezing in horror as my hair was caught in them. "_Oh my — shit — erm —_"

Malfoy watched me struggle with the earrings for a couple minutes, before deciding it was too unbearable to witness. "_Let me,_" he interjected, sounding more annoyed than concerned. "_There._"

I held my palm out for them, realizing seconds later that he left them on.

Sensing the confusion, he showed me his cufflinks, which were cleverly hidden for the most part, but still silver and still in the shape of birch leaves.

"_Festive,_" I should have remarked, in an equally cold tone as he had done. Instead, I stared at those cufflinks and smiled.

He didn't return the smile — not that I expected him to.

"_Thanks,_" I added, feeling it necessary. "_For everything._"

The wizard stared at me, before nodding his head once. "_I imagine many things get caught in that hair._"

"_Er —_" Pause. "_I was actually talking about the film._"

He blinked. "_Oh, that._"

"_Yes, that. I didn't get the chance to thank you then, because, well, you know how hangovers go…_"

It appeared he wasn't amused.

"_Right…_" I furthered, staring at the bar, where Nott was seated. "_I guess I should get going…but…it was nice…chatting…I think._"

There was a rather long silence, wherein he said nothing, before I turned with my eyes pursed shut, unable to handle the awkwardness any longer, and lifted one foot from the floor to move to the bar, before I felt a brush of something on my shoulder. I glanced to the left and found his hand there.

"_Wait —_" he spoke. "_Do you — Do you think we could talk somewhere? In private."_

I was stunned. "_Erm — sure. Yeah._"

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading! I wonder what's going to happen at that bonfire... hehehehe**

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: lmao**

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><p>It frustrated me, that one obscure moment of kindness was all it took to erase <em>years <em>of bullying and torment — but the fact was still the same.

Something between us had changed.

It wasn't instantaneous. It was more of a slow burn, something that propelled me into those dreams night after night, and carried me to that very moment. I followed him through that courtyard and around the corner, where no one could see or hear us — and realistically, where any number of things could have happened.

But the moment he faced me, was the moment those thoughts and worries vanished from my bloodstream.

Instead, I leaned against the exterior wall and breathed in, filling my lungs with the crisp autumn air and the scent of his cologne, as he neared. It was a mixture of dark chocolate, black currant and sandalwood. It must have been expensive. It certainly smelled expensive.

It was around then that I realized how close we were, how the distance between us had been fleeting from the moment I walked into that dress shop.

His eyes found mine. "_I thought you should know…Astoria took the photograph._"

I looked at him, perplexed. "_Astoria? But — But she —_"

"_Has a bit of a mean streak,_" he finished. "_She's also quite possessive._"

"_Possessive?_" I repeated, staggered. "_How do you mean?_"

In that moment, he inched backwards, hiding the colour on his cheeks. "_It doesn't matter. Point is, she took the photograph on my camera and I found it later that night, which is why I delivered the film to you._"

"_You didn't — erm —_"

"_I didn't look at it,_" he interjected, sensing my train of thought and subsequently fixing his attention on the lake, around which there was an orange glow.

It appeared the bonfire had started, but there we were, apart from the other guests, caught in this moment of neither here nor there. It was like the past couple months had been condensed into one conversation.

There were nerves in my chest, most of which I ignored. "_Thank you,_" I told him, for the second time that evening. "_I'm not sure what I would have done, had that photograph been published._"

He glanced down a moment. "_You're welcome._"

It was the strangest feeling, standing there, knowing I had gone from loathing him with the fire of a thousand suns to dreaming about him night after night. Then, came this Harvest Moon celebration. If I hadn't known better, it would have seemed to me as though the universe were bringing us together.

But that can't have been the case, because the universe hated me.

In realizing that, I realized I viewed moments with him as a _good_ thing.

This unsettled me, enough that he noticed.

"_Is everything okay?_" he asked.

I swallowed hard and then nodded. "_Just — Just a bit — I don't know._"

"_Stressed?_"

"_Amongst other things…_"

His expression softened some, after which he said something. "_I — I can't imagine what you're going through with the papers, but I can tell you it will_ pass," he assured me, echoing his own troubles with the press. "..._and when it does, you'll come out so, so much stronger. I promise you that._"

There were a number of different things I could have said in response. But none of those words came to mind. I couldn't phrase exactly how he made me feel, right then. It was a mixture of confusion and astonishment and warmth and nothing I had ever expected from him — not in a million years.

I glanced up at him moist-eyed, and leaned in, uncertain as to where this would go, if anywhere at all, before pressing my lips against his cheek. It was light and soft, and I hoped it conveyed everything I wanted him to know. His breath was sharp, startled but not displeased. I could tell I had taken him by surprise, as well as myself, but the moment I leaned back, was the moment he leaned forward.

Just like that, we were suspended.

It was not the sex-fuelled rage I had anticipated. It was slower and heightened, to the point that my senses were focused only on him, as our lips hovered millimetres apart.

From there, I closed my eyes and waited.

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><p><strong>AN: trolololololololo **

**Kidding. Soz. I promise the next chapter is a looooong one. Thanks for reading! You're all wonderful, beautiful people and I can't thank you enough for putting up with my cliff hangers lmao. **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Chapter Eleven! **

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><p>I'll be blunt about it.<p>

I wanted him inside me.

As much as I despised him during our teen years, there had always been something inherently attractive about him. It was frustrating. On one hand, he was an absolute prick with the intent to make my life a living hell. On the other, he had those eyes and that stride and those dimples. I remember the first time I noticed his dimples. It was on a random weekend in our third year — at dinner in the Great Hall. I, as per, had my nose buried in a textbook — Potions, most likely — before glancing up to the sound of laughter.

Such a thing usually came from the Gryffindor or Hufflepuff tables. Ravenclaw, on occasion — usually _after _exams. But this time around, it came from the Slytherin table. I stared across the Great Hall and met eyes with the bane of my existence, as his lips curved into an actual smile — not a smirk. It was about two seconds before we darted our respective gazes in opposite directions, but in that time I realized something.

Malfoy was attractive.

Like, devastatingly attractive.

It had been a decade since then, and nothing had changed. Still, he enveloped me with those smoky eyes and made every inch of me ache with pure _need _as we hovered millimetres from one another.

I did nothing but breathe, consciously reminding myself that this wasn't a dream. It was real. If I did so much as flinch, our lips would have met in a kiss that rippled through me, at the mere thought of it.

"_Granger?_" he voiced, delivering my surname to me in such a way, that I was sure I could have lost control right then and there.

But instead of doing that, I looked from his lips to his eyes. "_Yes?_"

His gaze was deep — riveting. It looked as though he had something on his mind, something he wished to impart before things progressed any further. I could see the struggle in him, the way those smoky orbs glistened with opposing thoughts.

"_I need to tell you something…_"

"_What is it?_" I asked, suddenly worried.

He glanced down a moment, before locking eyes with me again. "_Benoit promoted me to the Manhattan store,_" he explained, a hitch in his breath. "_I — I'm leaving for New York in the morning._"

It took a moment — several, actually — for his words to register.

I blinked, knowing he could see the moisture in my eyes. "_C — Congratulations._"

Just like that, the moment was lost.

**One Hour Later **

It appeared the other guests were none the wiser. I found Harry and Ginny, and in turn Ron and Daphne, and sat with them by the bonfire. The wooden structure was, by this point, unidentifiable but it had apparently been built with the likeness of an old wizard from the Middle Ages. Daphne, bless her heart, tried explaining to me the significance, but my thoughts were too scattered to register anything she was saying.

I hope I didn't come off as too rude.

Despite everything I had been told about Astoria, it seemed her older sister was an agreeable, charming, genuinely nice person.

It reaffirmed to me, the fact that Slytherins weren't all bad.

But I couldn't think abut Slytherins anymore. I had to think about something else. I had to, despite being surrounded by them.

"_Hey you_," Nott smiled, finding my side on the blanket Daphne had laid out for us. In his hands, he held a couple pints, one of which he handed to me. "_I thought you could use one of these._"

I nodded in thanks, and chugged about a quarter of the pint in one go.

Nott gaped at me, startled and no longer smiling. "_Is something wrong?_"

"_Nothing at all,_" I lied, having another sip. "_Just dandy._"

He tossed me an obvious look. "_Granger, I know that tone._"

I grimaced. "_You're shrinking me._"

"_I'm not shrinking you,_" he countered, addressing me as though we had spent no time apart. "_Just — whatever happened, you can talk about it when you're ready. Until then, let's make the most of tonight._"

"_How do you propose we do that?_" I asked.

The young wizard reached into his suit coat and in his palm, he held a clear baggy with some silvery rectangles — each about the size of breath strips. "_Astoria copped these from some Swedish bloke a couple nights ago._"

I side-eyed him. "_There's no chance in _hell _I'm taking those._"

"_Why not?_" he pouted, like a puppy that had been denied a treat.

"_Because you're girl Astoria has it out for me_," I mumbled, in such a way that only he could hear. "_I'm sure she's tampered with those…things. Godric knows what'll happen to me, if I take one. I'll probably wake up in a dumpster with half a kidney missing._"

Nott narrowed his eyes at me. "_What would someone do with _half _a kidney?_"

"_You know what I mean._"

"_Sure,_" he started. "_But tell me, what makes you think Astoria has it out for you?_"

I scrunched my mouth, wondering whether or not I should elaborate. Even if I had been told the truth in confidence, it involved me and it was my business to share. I had no allegiance to Astoria — and she clearly felt no allegiance towards me.

Bearing that in mind, I leaned closer to Nott and explained the situation, leaving out the bit about a certain someone returning the film to me in the middle of the night — for whatever reason.

His eyes widened. "_Are you taking the piss?_"

I gave him one unambiguous look to confirm the information. "_I'm not. Just promise you won't tell anyone._"

"_Promise,_" he vowed, sounding rather distant in his thoughts. "_I can't believe she would do something like that; over a bloke that doesn't even like her, no less. It's —_"

"_Wait —_" I interjected. "_What are you talking about?_"

Nott looked at me, as though the answer were written out in plain letters. "_Draco,_" he uttered. "_There's obvious chemistry between you two. It's palpable._"

I swallowed hard. "_There's no chemistry. Trust me._" The words came out of my mouth, but even I had to admit they reeked of bullshit. "_And even if there were — which there is not — what would that have to do with Astoria? I thought you said she was into Marcus Flint._"

"_Astoria's into someone new every couple months,_" he explained. "_Right now, she's into Draco._"

Something about that didn't sit well with me. "_Well, she can go ahead and do what she likes. It's no problem to me._"

Nott chuckled at this. "_You are the world's worst liar._"

"_I am not!_"

"_So you admit you're lying,_" he winked, nudging me a little, as though we were old friends; at which point I folded my arms and turned away from him, knowing he was too smart to fall for my act.

It was around then, that he dropped the amusement and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. Doing so should have made me uncomfortable, but it didn't. Something about him put me at ease. It was present that night in the dungeons, and it was present right there, across from the bonfire — behind which there was a dock and a lake, where the water was calm and still.

I fixed my attention over there, and noticed someone standing close to the edge; alone.

"_Just remember,_" Nott told me, having followed my line of vision. "_I was your _first_ Slytherin._"

I faced him — confounded, startled, and then amused — allowing the twitch along my bottom lip to transition into a fit of giggles.

Such a charmer, that one.

**Later That Night**

Through some strange twist of fate, Nott managed to convince me that Astoria had not tampered with those rectangles. It turned out they were wizarding drugs, about twice the effect of marijuana and twice the cost. I, along with Harry and Ginny, took the silvery whatsit's with Nott and proceeded to wander the estate looking for our shadows, during which time we broke out into endless fits of laughter every five or so seconds about _literally nothing_.

It sounds boring, but I swear, I had the best time.

I returned home about three hours later, still buzzing, and slumped onto the sofa. It was lonely sometimes, living alone with no friend to chat with and no boyfriend to drunkenly spoon. I preferred having my privacy, but part of me missed living with Ginny. It had been two months since she moved out, and I still looked to the front door every now and then, expecting her to come home from a training session or from date night with Harry.

Needless to say, my lonely arse had been living vicariously through her during our time as roommates. I had my career, which I adored, but I had no time to date or to have fun. The closest I had gotten to going on a date since ending things with Ron, was, in fact, following Oliver to that balcony and subsequently humiliating myself for the entire world to later read about in the newspaper.

I shuddered thinking about it, and proceeded to remove my heels along with my dress.

One of the great things about living alone was being able to go nude anywhere in the flat, at any time. Granted, there were no secrets between myself and Ginny. She knew what I looked like naked and I, her — but the freedom of being able to cook breakfast with no more than a necklace on was something I didn't take lightly.

Bearing this in mind, I slipped out of my dress and turned on the fireplace, draping a throw over my legs as I sat there with a glass of wine and a good book. It was a Muggle book, something I had been meaning to read for the past couple weeks but never got around to doing. I read page to page, turning them faster as time went on, completely absorbed in the mystery and the suspense, when suddenly there was a knock on my door.

"_What the —_" I glanced to the structure and frowned, having reached a rather intense part in the book that I would preferred to have finished reading.

But me being me, I couldn't ignore the knock.

I popped into my bedroom and slipped on that same robe from the other night, and made my way to the door. It wasn't terribly late — maybe midnight or just after — but it was late enough for this visit to be a surprise. I figured it was either Harry or Ginny, stopping by to chat about something or other, or even Nott, to continue our fun and games.

But it was none of the above.

I opened that door, and gasped.

Before I could get a word in, or even so much as a breath, there were arms around me, drawing me close enough to catch that familiar scent of dark chocolate, black currant and sandalwood. I breathed in and then out, suddenly aware that I was bare beneath the robe, and that my feet were off the floor. I had my legs wrapped around his waist, as he held me with one arm and used the other to close the door, after which I slid down its length.

"_Granger,_" he said, dropping an octave, speaking to me in a rough, rugged voice. "_Would it be terrible of me to kiss you?_"

I quivered against him, flat against the mahogany, feeling warmth radiate from him to me, as he brushed the hair from my face. "_Beyond terrible,_" I managed to say. "_Though that's never stopped you before._"

It was then that he looked at me with the same deep-seated longing from my dreams, translating to me the frustration in his core and the fact that this moment had been a long time coming.

Without another word, he ran his hands through my hair and down my sides, before leaning forward and giving me a taste of that foul mouth.

I moaned into the kiss, overcome with the feeling of his lips on mine. It was the strangest sensation, and yet I couldn't get enough.

To be continued.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading! How do we like the story so far? I'm ****_obsessed _****with it. I literally can't write anything else right now haha. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. There's plenty more to come. Loads of twists and turns. **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Chapter Twelve! There's a song mentioned in the chapter, and I highly recommend you listen to it whilst reading. Really sets the mood.**

**BIG THANKS to vakarian honour! This chapter is dedicated to you, homie. **

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><p>"<em>I'm yours,<em>" he murmured. "_However you want me, whenever you want me._"

I moaned in response, as he dragged his kiss from my lips to the upper curve of my breasts. By then, the robe was unfastened and cascading down my body, revealing me in nothing but a black balconette bra and matching panties. It appeared he liked my choice in lingerie, because the manner in which those smoky eyes drank me in was unmistakable. It was more than attraction. It was devotion. It was reverence, as though I were the last drop of water in the Sahara Desert.

…from there, the moment transitioned into a dream sequence with "Lay It Down" by _The Rubens _humming in the background.

I unbuttoned his shirt from the top down and watched in reverie, as he shrugged it from his shoulders and revealed to me a torso that was lean and muscular, with light scarring here and there from his darker days. Part of me wondered about those days and the things he had done — crimes he had committed — but those thoughts escaped me in one fell swoop, as he swept me in his arms and carried me from the foyer to the bedroom.

Our bodies plunged into the plush white linens, where he suspended himself above me and brushed his lips against mine, coaxing them apart.

It was one thing having him on top of me, but to have him kissing me and touching me, grazing his hands along my curves and caressing me in all the right places, was something else entirely. I exhaled, caught somewhere between a raspy moan and a whimper. It seemed he liked those sounds, because his muscles hardened for me, pressing against me, between my legs — showing how much he wanted me, and in how many ways.

I couldn't take it anymore. I dragged my fingernails down his back, marking him in our moment of uninhibited exploration.

In response to this, he pulled me up and onto his lap, where he reached behind me and unclasped my bra. I rolled by head back, breathing hard and heavy, as his lips moved from my clavicle to my breasts, where he massaged them in circular motion with both hands and ran his tongue over my nipples.

"_Yes…_" I moaned, running my fingers through his hair as he flicked and sucked and kissed. "_Keep…Keep going…Oh my gosh…_"

Instead of rushing through foreplay like most men, he took his time with me. It was almost too long — the way he sucked my tits raw and then slipped a couple fingers beneath my panties. I wanted him bad. I wanted to ride him until morning and then have him again, in the shower, thrusting into me from behind.

Just the thought of it made me tingle.

But he didn't move faster. He moved nice and easy, bringing me to the brink of orgasm with only one hand, edging me closer and closer until retracting, teasing me to the point that my cheeks were hot with exasperation.

It was around that time, that he reminded me he was Slytherin, with that signature sideways smirk.

"_You're beautiful when you're angry_," he told me, amused.

I folded my arms, frustrated but blushing from the compliment. It was clear that he felt some sort of attraction towards me, but to hear him call me beautiful was rather startling.

Sensing this, he leaned closer and kissed me again, brushing our lips together soon after; smooth and affectionate. "_…however…whenever…_" he echoed.

I breathed out, releasing the tension in my muscles, immersed in the chills that traveled up and down my spine. It was immediately afterwards, that he lowered me onto the pillows, still kissing me, and grazed one hand up my thigh. I could feel him between my legs. I could feel his want, his need, his everything.

"_Right here…_" I murmured. "_Right now…_"

It didn't take much more than that.

In a slow, rhythmic motion, he hooked his fingers into my lace panties and dragged them down my thighs.

Soon, there was nothing covering me, apart from him. I felt his heat, his desire, and reached between our bodies to unbuckle his trousers.

"_Granger…_" he struggled to say, eyes flickering shut as I pushed those trousers out of the way and curved my hand around him.

I felt him harden in my palm, more so than before.

It was nice being in control, watching his muscles tense up and relax, depending on whether or not I felt generous.

I used one hand to stroke him, slow and steady, gaining pace as time went on, and bringing him to the brink as he had done for me. It was predictable, but necessary. I smiled to myself, and then released him without meaning to, as he grazed our lips together in a smoky, sultry kiss.

It was then, right then, that the atmosphere between us changed.

It wasn't about sex.

It was about us; about the dress shop, the dance, the first visit, and the confession that brought him to my doorstep for the second time.

Just like that…I melted into him, into his fire, into his motions, into the night that I hoped would never end; with one name on my lips, one name to eclipse the others, and one name that I was cursed to remember.

_Draco…Draco…Draco…_

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><p><strong>AN: Snaaaaaaap. Predictions? No? FINE. (sorry, I have a weird sense of humour lol). Thanks for reading! **

**Cheers**

**xo**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I'm going to apologize ahead of time. **

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><p>In the morning, I awoke, immersed in sunlight as it poured in through my bedroom window. It was early — about six in the morning — and as I turned to the left, I noticed the space beside me was vacant.<p>

There was no one.

I shifted into upright position and secured a bed sheet around me, before darting a look around the room. It was completely empty, save for me and my furniture, and a single note on my bedside table.

In the back of my mind, I knew this would happen. I would never, _could _never ask someone to postpone their dreams for me. It wasn't in my nature to do such things. I understood hard work and dedication, and I was happy for him. If he so much as attempted to stay in London and continue whatever it was we had between us, he would not have been the same person and he would certainly have grown to resent me.

This was the right thing to do.

Knowing that, there was still an emptiness in my chest that wouldn't subside.

_Granger, _the note read. _I don't have a talent for these sorts of things, but for your sake and the sake of everything that's happened, it's my duty to try…_

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><p><strong>AN: Errrrrrrm. Please don't hate me! Next chapter should be up in like 10 minutes. Thanks for reading! **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Chapter Fourteen! I can't believe I have so many chapters posted. Crazy. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one. **

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><p><em><strong>Two Years Later<strong>_

There were lights strung up around the trees and neighbourhood homes, decorating the area in bright, beautiful hues of red and green. It was that time of year again, when festive cheer was in as much abundance as the snowflakes that fell from the clouds above.

Did I mention alcohol consumption and emptied bank accounts? Because there was a lot of that, too.

I'm talking about Christmas — obviously.

To think, there was once a time in my life when I _enjoyed _this season and rushed down the staircase of my parents' home in reindeer pyjamas to open gifts and stuff my face with whatever treats lay waiting for me.

It seemed the older I got, the more I realized.

Christmas wasn't as much about gift giving and snowman jumpers, as it was about deflecting marriage questions from nosy relatives and shovelling copious amounts of mince pies and gingerbread biscuits down my throat to prevent from an unsightly meltdown in the middle of my parents' lounge.

Point being: I was content being a single, working woman, and I wished everyone would leave me alone about it.

This night, as it turned out, panned different from most:

"_Granger!_" someone called out, from about ten or twelve feet behind.

I turned, and noticed a tall, dark-haired wizarding racing towards me — moments before he slipped on a sheet of ice and fell flat on his arse.

It was mid-afternoon on Christmas Eve and I had plans to meet my roommate for lunch, as we were both called into work that morning and hadn't spent any time together for the entire month of December. I had all but given up on our lunch plans, as he was an hour late, until this very moment.

I laughed, having spotted said-roommate on the ground with snow soaked through his hair and his scrubs, and set down my bag to help him up. "_You'll be feeling that tomorrow._"

He grimaced at this comment, using one hand to brush the snow from his person and the other to rub his bottom. "_I'm feeling it right now._"

"_Good thing you're a Healer_," I winked, walking with him through the town centre and towards our designated meeting place.

It was a quaint, little restaurant about fifteen minutes from our shared home, in the wizarding settlement known as Puddlemere. I had been there about six or seven times in the year that we lived together. Our arrangement was simple. Neither of us wanted to live in central, as we were tired of the hustle and bustle, and neither of us had significant others, as our careers were too demanding for relationships — which left us with one, rather obvious solution.

Platonic, of course.

Nott held the door open, and we found our usual table across the large, landscape window from which there was a gorgeous view of our town.

It was around ten minutes later that we had our food and drinks, after which we fell into silence, eating and drinking and eating and drinking. I hadn't eaten anything in over a day, having worked my arse off these last few weeks. It was a difficult time at the Auror Office, seeing as most people decided to go on holiday and left the rest of us with mountains and mountains of work.

"_So what's the plan for tonight?_" he asked, dabbing his lips with the napkin. "_Did Ginny say the party was casual dress or…?_"

I paused mid-chew. "_Erm —_"

"— _Don't tell me you forgot._"

"_I've been busy,_" I shrugged, gulping down some water. "_It's not my fault half the office is absent._"

Nott flashed me a knowing look. "_I know what day it is, Granger._"

"_Whatever could you mean?_" I asked, playing innocent.

The wizard, my fantastic roommate, with the strange, inexplicable talent for calling me on my bullshit, leaned in. "_It's Christmas Eve, and a certain someone is back in town tonight._"

There was a hitch in my chest, that I willfully ignored. Instead of acknowledging the obvious, I continued to eat and drink and eat and drink, until my meddlesome roommate gave me a swift nudge under the table.

I exhaled, hard. "_What do you want me to say?_"

"_Nothing, if that's what you feel._"

"_You can be _**_such_**_ a girl about things,_" I countered, rolling my eyes.

"_Stop deflecting._"

"_I'm not deflecting. I'm just —_"

"_Nervous?_" he asked.

I shrugged, at a loss.

It had been two years since thenight in question and still, those memories were fresh in my mind. I spent most of that time ignoring the ache inside, but I was now forced to deal with what happened and confront the person behind the memories.

Nott sensed the change in me, and softened his expression. "_Granger,_ _you're my roommate, but you're also my best friend, and the only reason I'm asking you about this is because I worry for you._"

"_You're worried?_" I repeated.

He nodded. "_I know I'm not one to talk, but you've worked yourself into exhaustion these past few weeks and I think you're well overdue for some fun and excitement._"

"_Trust me,_" I started. "_There is nothing fun nor exciting about 'a certain someone' back in town._"

The wizard looked at me, perplexed. "_Explain._"

In the time that I lived with Nott, I had failed to confide in him the most important detail to this saga. In failing to do so, I painted the picture between myself and 'a certain someone' in lighter hues and left my friends with the impression that this reunion would be a fun chance to hook up and satiate all that unresolved sexual tension.

But the tension between myself and 'a certain someone' was not sexual, as we had resolved that long ago. It was worse — much, much worse — and involved those treacherous buggers that were otherwise known as _feelings_.

As we've learned, feelings weren't (and still aren't) my area of expertise.

I tossed one look over my shoulder, before leaning forward and whispering to him the details of what happened on the night of the Harvest Moon party.

Nott gaped at me. "_You _**_must _**_be taking the piss._"

"_I wish I was…_"

"_Granger,_" he started, looking at me with a whirlwind of surprise, amazement, and overall amusement in his eyes. "_You realize what this means, don't you?_"

I screwed my face. "_Fill me in._"

Nott clapped his hands together and held them over his mouth, making it clear to me that the wheels in his mind were turning at breakneck speed. "_I'm taking you to London — right now — and we're going to find you something nice for tonight._"

There was a distinct arch in my brow. "_Are you absolutely sure you're not a girl?_"

"_Quite,_" he smiled, giddier than I'd seen him in a long time. "_As you've known for about — how long as has it been, nine years?_"

I couldn't help it. I chuckled at this. "_You're such a twat._"

"_But you love me anyway,_" he winked, rising to pay the bill.

_**Five Hours Later **_

It was an interesting group of people, to say the least.

I had never before seen Ginny and Harry's massive home filled to capacity, never like this, and assumed, quite naively, that this would be a small gathering between close friends and the like. But there were tons of people there, smiling and chatting without a care in the world.

I, on the other hand, had worked myself into a near panic attack.

It was safe to assume there was a lot riding on that night — the first night in about two years that 'a certain someone' had returned from Manhattan.

Nott, being the well-meaning roommate that he was, conspired with Ginny to dress me up in something rather ridiculous. It wasn't a casual affair, by any means, but I definitely felt overdressed in my floor-length midnight blue dress. According to Ginny, everyone at the party would be dressed in red and green, which meant I _had to _go for something different. Nott, although less attuned with fashion, had chosen something for me — something the overzealous shopkeeper deemed to be a cross between Audrey Hepburn and Elizabeth Taylor.

I stood near the bar area and nursed some wine, trying to wrap my head around the fact that Nott had actually convinced me into wearing something so extravagant, whilst ignoring the curious stares. It had been over two years since the wedding and still, people whispered about me and readied their cameras for the moment I would bare all.

Posh twats.

I couldn't let them faze me.

Instead, I did as I usually did and moved to the kitchen.

Ginny was slaving over the stove — having catered most of the food, much to her mother's dismay — and struggled to prepare the main course. It was her mum's own recipe and consisted of various ingredients that probably shouldn't be mixed in one dish, but tasted absolutely phenomenal — as most of Molly's dishes do.

"_Hermione,_" she nagged at me, retying the apron over her festive red dress. "_Get out of here. I can't have you dirtying your outfit._"

"_But everyone keeps staring at me,_" I pouted, helping her with the apron. "_Besides, it looks like you could use another hand in here._"

She considered this a moment, before shaking her head and continuing to stir the pot. "_Don't worry about me. Just have fun and mix around._"

I made motion to argue but retracted, as soon as I realized there was another place that was free of nosy guests.

Ginny added some more herbs and spices to her aromatic concoction, none the wiser as I left the kitchen and moved to the back of the house, where there was a porch swing outside and a gorgeous view of the surrounding greenery.

It was the perfect plan — fresh air and some much needed time alone.

I lifted the skirts to my dress and opened the door, feeling the nervous energy in my core come to an unexpected, frighteningly intense impasse, as someone moved through the corridor — behind me. It was difficult to tell, as my back was turned, but that scent and the brush of blonde that ignited the left side of my peripheral vision was unmistakable.

It appeared as though I hadn't been seen, which provided me opportunity to escape and return home, where there was a good book and an untouched bottle of firewhiskey waiting for me.

But the dress that Nott had so generously purchased for me, demanded to be seen.

I was overdressed, but I looked damn good.

After a brief pause, my legs turned and positioned me near the kitchen, where the latest arrivals greeted Ginny, along with Harry, and complimented them on their beautiful home. It was a very adult conversation; not my cup of tea, as I still lived like a university student and ate ramen noodles seven nights a week.

"_Hermione!_" Ginny smiled, welcoming me into the conversation with a wider than usual smile.

Just from that — I knew something was wrong but there was no time for her to fill me in, as everyone's attention turned to me in one clean sweep.

"_Look who's in town for the holidays…_" Harry added, filling in the silence. "_I'm sure you remember each other._"

I looked across from my friends, and noticed the tall, blond-haired wizard. It was like the wedding all over again. There he was, dressed to the nines in a tailored black suit, fitted to his height and build, with his hair in pristine condition and a jawline that was slightly more defined than what I remembered. Due to age, most like.

In a moment of pure panic, I plastered an even wider smile on my face and tried hard not to faint.

It was then that he looked at me, with a glimmer in his eyes that sparked an intense set of memories that I would rather have forgotten.

I must have looked panicked. I certainly felt panicked — too panicked for words.

But it wasn't the overwhelming feeling of being near him again, or the fact that our reunion was in front of an entire room filled with people. It was something else that created this panic — _someone _else. I fixed my attention to his left and found an alarmingly beautiful, blond-haired woman dressed in a shimmering gown that fell from her shoulders to her knees and gave accent to her long, modelesque legs.

"_Nice to finally meet you,_" she greeted, speaking to me in an American accent, with an air about her that I couldn't help but liken to Charlize Theron — only younger and with bigger boobs. "_I'm Katherine._"

"_Katherine,_" I repeated. "_It — It's nice to meet you, too. I'm Hermione._"

"_Such a gorgeous name,_" she told me. "_Were your parents fans of Shakespeare?_"

It took a moment for me to snap out of it. "_Yes,_" I answered. "_The Winter's Tale is one of their favourites._"

Charlize's doppelgänger said something else in response, but I couldn't concentrate on the words coming from her mouth. I looked only to my friends, both of whom exchanged worried looks with one another, and then to the young man whose hand was interlaced with the beautiful blonde.

I noticed the depth in his gaze.

It wasn't affection or happiness in those eyes. It was remorse — _guilt_.

Just like that, the dress felt heavy on me.

I longed to part with it — along with the makeup and the accessories and the shoes and everything I had done in anticipation for tonight.

Before I could, there was a hand on my shoulder, one that glided down my arm and into my own hand, where it locked fingers with me; warm and familiar.

I turned and found Nott there.

"_You okay?_" he mouthed to me, faint enough that no one else could see.

I didn't respond.

I couldn't respond, not without opening a door into the void.

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><p><strong>AN: I wasn't lying when I said there would be twists and turns lol. Please don't hate me! **

**Here's a song list representing each guy with whom our heroine has been involved thus far. **

**1. Viktor: "Domino" by Jessie J**

**2. Ron: "Too Close" by Alex Clare**

**3. Oliver: "Va Va Voom" by Nicki Minaj **

**4. Nott: "Happy Little Pill" by Troye Sivan **

**5. Draco: "Lay It Down" by The Rubens**

**Thanks for reading! **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: This chapter might be a little controversial, so please read it with an open mind. Anyway, I hope you like it!**

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><p>It was a tiresome evening, to say the least.<p>

I wished to retire within the first hour, but I couldn't. It was Harry and Ginny's first Christmas Eve celebration in their home and I had to stay and support them, even if that meant being within earshot of Draco and his gorgeous girlfriend — or date, whatever she was.

Ginny tossed me worried looks now and then but I refrained from leaving my place near the bar; being that it was the only way to ensure my friends wouldn't bombard me with questions and concerns.

I didn't have the stomach for their pity; not then.

I did, however, have quite the appetite for alcohol, and managed to empty an entire bottle of wine on my own.

Don't worry, it wasn't a full size.

I had to wake up bright and early the next morning, as my parents were hosting a Christmas party at their house, where every relative within the country would be in attendance. Lord knew those parties were frustrating enough. I couldn't fathom the idea of attending with an out-and-out hangover.

Even so, the wine was beginning to play a number on me.

I left the main area, where everyone was dancing and chatting and oblivious to my inner turmoil, and moved through the decorated corridor, to the loo. I had so much on my mind, about the past couple hours and the past couple years and everything that led up to that awkward reunion. I had so much I wanted to say — to shout — but no words to speak.

It seemed the universe were torturing me for wrongdoings in an earlier incarnation, because I couldn't understand how I deserved the things that were happening to me. It had to be supernatural. It can't have been fate progressing at a natural, even pace.

I knew this for certain, when I reached the loo and opened the door.

"_Sorry —_" I apologized, slamming face first into someone's chest.

It was a man — but not just any man.

It was him.

I darted one look in his direction, and swallowed hard.

"_Can we talk?_" he asked, as we stood within alarmingly close proximity.

If there were ever a moment to run back as fast as possible and never return, it was then. I planned it out in my mind, where I would go, how I would get there, what I would tell the others when they asked — but those plans came to a screeching halt when I felt his hand on my arm.

I backed away. "_What are you doing?_"

He opened his mouth, startled. "_I'm sorry. I didn't mean to — to offend you._"

"_Then leave me alone,_" I told him, surprised by the words coming from my mouth.

It seemed he was equally surprised, which stirred a pleasurable feeling within me, as I watched his conviction waver.

"_I'm sorry,_" he repeated, head down. "_For everything._"

"_Why?_" I questioned, curious as to what his answer could possibly be.

In place of a proper response, he sighed; frustrated.

Doing so surprised me. It seemed to me he had everything sorted — dream career, gorgeous girlfriend, beautiful home, recovered wealth, the whole lot.

No reason to be frustrated.

But the look on his face was unmistakable.

"_Listen,_" I said to him, sensing where this headed, and not at all prepared. "_You shouldn't keep Katherine waiting. It's rude._"

He darted one look at me, surprised and then heated; with what, I couldn't be sure. "_Don't play that game._"

I scoffed at this. "_What game?_"

There was a pause in the conversation, wherein he moved closer to me. This time, I didn't back away. I stood my ground and waited, knowing all the while that anyone could have interrupted us — but I didn't care. I'd been drinking away my sorrows for at least three hours and finally, I felt something other than dazed humiliation.

I was angry — righteously, so.

"_It seems to me that you're the only one who plays games around here,_" I added, pushing down the rush of emotion that threatened to envelope me.

"_You have a right to be upset,_" he said. " — _and_ _I know it doesn't seem like it, but I meant every word of that letter._"

I closed my eyes, overwhelmed. "_Don't talk about the fucking letter._"

Before he could respond, or at least acknowledge the fact that I was tearing up in front of him, I left.

**_Later That Night_**

It was around three in the morning, that I heard the front door open and footsteps in the corridor. I was in my bedroom, having returned from the party earlier than I'd planned — with Ginny's blessing. I wanted to stay late and help clean up, but the idea of being trapped in the same vicinity as Ferret Boy and his doppelgänger date made me want to vomit.

I sighed, feeling slightly guilty.

Katherine seemed nice. There was no reason to loop her into the same mess. For all I knew, she had no idea about what happened two years ago. In fact, I was sure of it. There was no woman on earth — no matter how laid back — that would have spoken to me with such kindness after what happened between me and her beau.

Granted, it happened _before _she knew him, but still.

"_You're awake,_" someone voiced. " — _and still in your dress._"

I fixed my attention to the door, and found Nott leaning against the frame with his hands in his pockets.

"_The zipper's stuck,_" I explained, embarrassed as he laughed at me.

In spite of his amusement, he moved from the door to the bed and made motion for me to turn around before kneeling over me and working at the zipper.

"_Merlin's tits,_" he voiced, shifting it about. "_This thing really is stuck._"

"_Told you,_" I grimaced. "_I spent two hours trying to fix it._"

There was more laugher behind me, where he stood. "_I think the universe is trying to tell you something._"

" — _that I'm cursed to relive the embarrassment from tonight over and over and over again?_"

" — _that you looked nice tonight,_" he countered, freeing the zipper some time later, after which he dragged it down my back.

I breathed out, relieved. "_Thanks._"

"_No problem,_" he said, turning his back to me as I slipped out of the dress and into some pyjamas. "_If you're interested, Ron mentioned something about a New Year's Eve party at Daphne's house._"

"_You've been talking to Ron?_" I asked, amused.

He shrugged. "_Is that weird?_"

I thought back to what happened six years ago. "_You don't want to know._"

"_Come on_," he frowned, folding his arms. "_Since when do you have the upper hand in anything?_"

"_Since now,_" I told him, tapping him on the shoulder to let him know I was decent.

"_Will you at least give me a hint?_" he asked.

In lieu of a response, I draped the dress over a hanger and made room for it in my closet. I didn't wear many clothes, but I had loads of them. Most were from Ginny or Jillian, in attempt to brighten my wardrobe. I appreciated the thought behind their generosity, but the clothes they bought me were a little inappropriate for the office — where I spent most of my time.

I turned, and found Nott seated on the edge of my bed, waiting for me to fill him in on the Ron situation. "_You really want to know?_"

He nodded. "_Yes, yes, yes. Tell me, tell me, tell me._"

I laughed, before jumping on the mattress and folding both arms behind my head, pleased with the fact that I was finally in a position of power. Nott climbed beside me and kept quiet, like a child waiting for a bedtime story. I glanced at him for a moment, wondering how we had gone from what happened in the broom closet to being best friends and roommates — but I didn't think long in it.

Some friendships came with ease. Some didn't.

"_Ron found out I lost my virginity to you, in a rather unconventional way…_" I told him, speaking carefully.

For a moment, it appeared as though he hadn't heard me, but the blank look on his face vanished as soon as he connected the dots. "_You broke up because of me?_"

"_Er — not entirely._"

His face screwed. "_Explain._"

I scrunched my mouth to the side, contemplating how I could phrase this without ruining our roommate situation. In truth, I loved living with him. Our friendship was low maintenance and we communicated on an almost telepathic level.

"_It's more _**_how _**_he found out, than anything else…_"

Nott sensed something amiss. "_Someone else told him?_"

"_Good guess,_" I offered. "_But no one else told him. I — I didn't tell anyone, actually._"

"_Neither did I,_" he admitted. "_In part because no one in House Slytherin can keep their mouth shut._"

I faced him. "_ — and the other part?_"

"_Out of respect for you,_" he answered, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "_No more side tracking._"

There was no way around it. I'd been avoiding this topic for the past two years — since seeing him at the Harvest Moon party, really. If I wanted to avoid the topic in the future, I'd have to buck up and tear that bandaid as fast as possible.

"_I…I can't believe I'm telling you this, but one night…I…erm…I was having sex with Ron and…and I broke the one cardinal rule in love making…_"

"_Too much teeth?_" he guessed.

I tossed him an annoyed look. "_No, nothing to do with teeth. If — If you must know, I said someone else's name in the middle of an orgasm._"

It took a moment — several, actually — for the words to register, and when they did, those wheels started turning. I sat there, worried, anticipating a storm of endless teasing and shameless flirtation, but nothing happened.

Instead, he shrugged. "_Shit happens._"

I arched an eyebrow. "_Shit happens?_"

"_Shit happens,_" he nodded, pausing. "_Better yet — explain to me how Ron Weasley managed to give you an orgasm._"

This time, I paused. It was a good question, with a great answer, which I gave him using my hands as a gauge. I held them about nine inches apart, and watched as my roommate connected the dots.

He cringed — **out loud **— and smothered his face with a pillow. "_I did not need to know that!_"

"_You asked!_" I laughed, whacking him over the head with another, before he decided to retaliate.

It was my first pillow fight in over a decade, and I ended up sprawled on the bed with my hair an even bigger mess than before and Nott above me, pumping his fist in the air in victory, before I whacked him again, across the chest.

I tumbled with him, a mixture of horror and amusement tugging at my face, as we fell unceremoniously to the hardwood floor.

For some reason, he ended up on top of me again.

"_Thanks for breaking my fall,_" he winked.

I tried to retort with something clever, but there was sharp pain along my right wrist, which left me groaning in discomfort. "_I think it's sprained._"

But my roommate was already one step ahead, having taken hold of the area in question and examined it with a light from his wand. It appeared he was scanning something. "_You're right,_" he told me, glancing up. "_Sorry about that._"

"_It's okay,_" I assured him, thinking back to our earlier conversation. "_Good thing you're a Healer._"

"_Good thing,_" he agreed, conjuring a bandage and using it to compress the affected area. "_Stay here. I'll get some ice._"

Before I could get a word in, he was up and out of the room. I waited there, still on the floor, until he returned with an ice pack and a vial of what I assumed would help with the pain. I watched him, as he placed the ice pack over my wrist, careful not to hurt me, and then as he administered the potion.

It tasted like nothing, which I appreciated.

"_Keep your wrist elevated for the next couple days and you should be fine in no time,_" he told me, sounding all Healer-like.

I smiled at this, proud of him. "_Thank you._"

"_No need to thank me. Just doing my —_"

"_No,_" I interjected. "_I meant, thank you for distracting me from you-know-what._"

It was then that he realized the true meaning of what I had said, and in that moment, he leaned closer to me and wiped the droplets from my lower lash line. It was intimate, without being romantic, as most things were with him.

"_Honestly, Granger….you're a catch…and anyone who can't see that isn't worth the breath it takes to show them._"

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><p><strong>AN: Opinions?**

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Okay, when I said the last chapter was controversial, I meant this one! lol. Sorry for the mix up. **

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><p>It was around one hour after my roommate returned to his bedroom, that I heard a tap from the window. I turned and spotted an Eagle Owl resting on the ledge with a single roll of parchment in its pouch. Something about this owl rung familiar, but I was in too much of a fatigued trance to concentrate on those details.<p>

I moved to the window and unlatched it, watching as the majestic creature soared in and waited for me to retrieve the parchment, before gliding past me and into the night.

Strange behaviour.

In my experience, most owls hung back for treats or perhaps a return message — but this one belonged to a special breed. I could tell, right then, that it was trained to perfection and most probably belonged to someone important.

For a moment, my nerves escalated, in thinking the letter was a message from my boss, explaining to me that I had landed myself in trouble and that everything I had worked so hard to accomplish would be taken from me. It's no laughing matter, trust me. I had nightmares all the time, about getting sacked from the Auror Office and having to clear my desk in front of everyone — with Rita Skeeter there to narrate.

But the moment I unfurled the parchment and laid eyes on the familiar handwriting was the moment those chronic worries vanished into thin air — and were replaced by something deeper.

_Granger, _

_I remember those first few nights in Manhattan, waking up in a cold sweat, worried that I'd made a mistake. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. I could barely concentrate on work. _

_But it wasn't homesickness that drove me up the wall…it was you. _

_Even now, as I lay in bed room with another woman — it's you I can't stop thinking about. _

_Horrible, isn't it? _

_I know I'm not painting myself in a positive light with this letter, but I'm not trying to be a saint. I think we both know the truth. I've been a sinner since day one, and I hope you remember the night I proved it you, as clearly as I do. _

_If you need reminding, let me know. _

_Yours, _

_Draco _

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><p><strong>AN: Thoughts? Oh, and I know it says [Draco, Hermione] in the description, as the main couple, but that doesn't mean Draco is end-game. Could be anyone ;) **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Chapter Seventeen!**

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><p><strong><em>New Year's Eve <em>**

It went without saying that all the pureblood soirees were beginning to do my head in, but there was still one more to attend before the dreaded holiday season was over. Daphne was hosting a countdown bash in her new home. It was about ten minutes from Brighton, located in one of the lush pureblood settlements.

Daphne's home in particular was three stories high, minimalist in decor, complete with neutral tones and vertical gardens, and made mostly of glass. Needless to say , it was gorgeous, and had amazing views of the ocean.

Someone as clumsy as me was bound to break something. Bearing this in mind, I tried hard not to linger too long around the glass walls.

It was around ten minutes after my arrival, that I found Ginny and weaved with her through the enormous crowd of pureblood socialites, to the bar — true to form. If we had to mix around with these people, we at least reserved the right to do it with a buzz.

Plus, there was too much on my mind that I needed to forget. I tried hard to hide it, but I noticed Ginny eyeing me every now and then, with a suspicious look on her face. She, along with Nott, could see right through me.

"_Something about you is different,_" she voiced, as we moved to a less congested area of the house. "_Have you been to the spa recently?_"

I contemplated an acceptable response. It had been a week since a certain letter had been delivered to me via owl post, and in that time I hadn't told a single soul about what was written. In fact, none of my friends — including Ginny and Nott — knew there was a letter at all. I couldn't tell them without sequential follow up questions, and I wasn't in the right frame of mind to give them those answers.

Ginny narrowed her eyes at me. "_Hold on. I know that look. You're sleeping with someone, aren't you?_"

I feigned amusement. "_If I were, you'd be the first to know — trust me. _

She scrunched her mouth to the side, in thought. "_It's either Malfoy or Nott. Has to be._"

"_Wait —_" I paused, an arch in my brow. "_Where did Nott come from?_"

"_You're both attractive, single people,_" she reasoned, as though it were an obvious conclusion to draw. " _— and you sleep less than three seconds down the corridor from one another every night._"

"_Ginny, he's my roommate. I would never, not in a million years, have sex with him agai— erm —_" I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to Merlin that she hadn't picked up on my brain fart.

She choked on her drink, earning the attention of several passersby, before blurting out one word. "_AGAIN?_"

I sighed with defeat. "_It was a long time ago._"

"_How long? Couple weeks? Couple months? Couple hours?_"

"_About nine years,_" I answered, having kept my teenaged rendezvous a secret until then.

She paused, sparing a couple seconds to do the math. It was soon after that, that her eyes widened to the size of galleons. "_He was your first, wasn't he?_"

"_Like I said, long time ago. Things have changed._"

"…_But how did it happen?_"

"_Ginny…_"

"_Come on,_" she interjected, pouting. "_As your girlfriend, it's my duty to ask._"

"_Fine,_" I sighed, darting one look around to make sure the coast was clear. "_It was the night of Slughorn's Christmas Party, and it happened in a…in a broom closet._"

She clapped a hand over her mouth, suppressing the giggles. "_That's amazing!_"

I shrugged. "_To be honest, it was a little uncomfortable — but he was very gentle._"

"_Have you talked about it since?_"

"_No,_" I answered, rather quick. "_We're roommates. If anything happened between us, it would only complicate things._"

Though reluctant to agree, she did nod. "_What about Malfoy?_"

I cringed at the sound of his name. "_What about him?_"

"_For one, things between him and Katherine are on the rocks…_"

It was now my turn to choke, and I did. "_Wh — What?_"

"_Daphne told me,_" she explained, leaning close. "_They've been staying here, with her, and for the most part things have gone well — excluding the massive blowout argument they had last night. It was very heated, and according Daphne, it was about another woman._"

I stared blankly into the crowd, listening to the music as it transitioned from indie to electro. It appeared the party was reaching its apex, as the countdown was near, but my thoughts were far from the new year. I glanced down, into my drink, and hoped the blueish liquid would swallow me whole.

"_What's wrong?_" Ginny asked.

It was difficult, bearing such weight without telling anyone.

I had no grasp on the situation. I needed someone to talk to. I needed someone to tell me I wasn't mental for thinking this was all very bizarre and ill-timed. But more than anything, I needed someone to hold me back before I did something stupid.

Keeping this in mind, I reached into the confines of my clutch and handed the pro Quidditch star an unrolled piece of parchment.

It was the letter.

For some reason, I'd been carrying the damned thing with me, worried that Nott would stumble upon it at our house. I especially didn't want him to know, though I couldn't be certain as to why that was.

"_You've got to be kidding me…_" the redhead voiced, having read the letter about four times over.

"_It's horrible,_" I added, in agreement with her shock and distaste.

She blinked hard, as though doing so would cause the words to rearrange and form a letter that wasn't so blunt in its message. "_That scoundrel._"

"_I know. I can't believe he would proposition me with Katherine right th —_"

" — _Are you going to see him?_"

I gaped at her, taken aback. "_You're joking, right?_"

"_No,_" she decided, tucking the letter into my clutch. "_You don't have to sleep with him. Just see him. If anything, you'll get closure over this whole situation._"

"_Doesn't closure usually end in sex?_"

"_If you're lucky,_" she winked, changing her tune the moment I gasped. "_That, my dear friend, was a joke. But you should still see him. You owe it to yourself._"

It was tiring, battling through the confusing mix of emotions in my chest. "_This is so _**_not _**_how I imagined things would be,_" I voiced, running both hands through my hair, which was down in soft curls that night, matched with a simple black dress. "_I spent the past two years dreaming about this guy…and now that he's finally here…things are shit._"

Ginny placed an arm around me. "_I know it's tough. I've been there. Just — Just try to focus on yourself and what you need. Fuck everyone else._"

"_I wish it were that simple._"

"_It can be,_" she told me. "_If want something, you should go for it._"

"_Ginny…_" I voiced, staring at her, shocked. "_I'm surprised this is coming from you, a married woman._"

"_Listen, sweetie, I'm married but I'm not a moron. I know what the kids are doing these days._"

I laughed at this. "_You've obviously taken one too many bludgers to the head._"

"_Probably,_" she agreed, laughing with me. "_Jokes aside, I still think you should talk to him, maybe knock some sense into that blond head of hair._"

It was strange, going into the conversation I had decided I wasn't going to see him, under any circumstances, but Ginny presented an interesting argument. I didn't have to sleep with him. I could see him, smack him across the face, and leave with my dignity (and my knickers) in tact.

By this point, my mind was made up.

I would see him, and I would do it right there, at the party, where I knew nothing could possibly happen between us.

**_Ten Minutes Later _**

It was close to midnight, around five minutes until the countdown, when I found him outside, in the back. Strange locale, but I figured he was as over the party as I was. Still, it was mind numbingly cold outside. I approached him, arms folded over my chest, shivering and second guessing this decision. I hated the cold, almost as much as the cold hated me.

He stood there, with his back turned, overlooking the tide.

I paused, falling victim to the nervous feeling my chest. It was simple enough in my mind — how the conversation would go, what I would say, how he would react — but now that I was there, about six feet behind him, I couldn't move.

I was running out of time, too.

But the moment I decided to run back and salvage the night, he turned around and found me with those smoky orbs.

I opened my mouth to say something, to address the situation, to shout at him for being such a messed up human being — but the words were caught on my tongue, as he removed the suit coat from his back and moved closer to me, before draping the black fabric over my shoulders.

"_What are you doing here?_" he asked me.

I blanked. I couldn't remember any of the things I had planned. I stood there, open mouthed, contemplating whether or not to run or to hide — or both.

Sensing this, he waited for me to regain some control.

It was a struggle, forcing those words out, but there was no choice in the matter. "_I — I'm here to talk to you._"

His eyes traveled bottom to top, pausing over my bandaged wrist. "_You're hurt._"

"_It's only a sprain,_" I told him. "_ — not that, that's any of your business._"

"_Fine,_" he voiced, holding his hands up in surrender. "_You want to talk? Let's talk._"

It wasn't as easy as I'd hoped, having this conversation, but it was necessary.

"_How dare you,_" I broke through, faint but strong, in a strange mix of highs and lows. "_How dare you presume to send me that letter, after everything that's happened._"

Something rose in his chest. "_Listen…I never meant to —_"

" _— No,_" I interjected. "_I'm not here to listen. I'm here to tell you there's no chance in hell that I would ever associate myself with someone as irreversibly fucked up as you, Malfoy._"

His eyes glistened, as the words came from my mouth.

"_Do you want to know something else?_" I furthered. "_I don't even care that you're seeing someone, because that's not the part that hurts me,_" I told him, breathing deeply. "…_the part that hurts me is that you, the man I waited two years to see, think it's acceptable to manipulate my feelings and treat me like some callow groupie._"

"_Granger, that's not what this at all…_"

I scoffed. "_Isn't it?_"

"_No,_" he countered. "_I didn't mean to hurt you._"

"_Of course you did,_" I disagreed, wiping an unexpected drop of moisture from my eye. "_You snuck out of my flat that night and left me under the impression that you would come back and that we could explore this thing between us and then two years pass with no word from you and then I hear you're coming back and for some reason I'm excited and I buy an entire outfit to please you and then you show up with another woman and expect me not to care and then you send me that fucked up letter and…and…"_

"_…and now we're here,_" he finished, moving closer to me, wiping a couple more drops before they cascaded down my cheeks. "_Listen, Hermione…I never meant to hurt you. I know you don't believe me, but it's the truth. I didn't write to you for two years because I heard you were in a relationship with Nott, which for some reason I believed. I didn't want to interfere, so I bowed out and tried hard to forget about you, but I couldn't. It took me months to even consider going on a date, let alone be in a relationship. Katherine…Katherine happened out of nowhere. I met her only a few weeks before coming here and I thought, rather naively, bringing her wouldn't be a bad idea — but I was wrong. It was cataclysmic, because as soon as I saw you at that party…I knew…and then I heard from Harry that you were single and that I made a massive mistake, so I panicked and wrote you that letter, which I wish I could take back, but I can't because it's too late. I'm here with Katherine, and you've clearly made your mind up about me._"

Before I could speak a word, or even register what he had said, there was noise. It came from inside the house. It was loud, like thousands of voices at once. It was a chant. It was, as both of us soon realized, the countdown.

_8…_

_7…_

_6…_

I turned back, face to face with the man of the hour. I couldn't fathom a response to the things he had told me. I could only stand there, as the countdown hummed in the background, watching as he watched me, in an attempt to gauge where this was headed.

_5…_

_4…_

I'm sure, if I had been in the right mind set, I would have turned back and found my friends before the countdown was over, but there was such a confusing mix of emotions in my chest, tugging me in opposite directions. I couldn't move, even if I wanted to, which I soon learned was the missing factor in all of this.

_3…_

_2…_

It was then, that we froze, suspended between this year and the next, caught in this moment that I was afraid would never end. I looked him in the eyes, deeper than before, and felt the stresses surrounding everything that happened dissipate into thin air.

_1…_

**_Later That Night_**

It was an hour after the countdown, and still, the party was going strong. I figured purebloods were so unbelievably uptight most of the year, that they seized the few opportunities granted to let loose and celebrate until morning. Even so, I couldn't join them.

I raced through the crowd and spotted Harry and Ginny in the foyer, mere moments before they planned to leave.

"_Hermione?_" Harry gasped, holding me upright as I struggled to catch my breath. "_Are you okay? Why were you running?_"

Ginny stepped in. "_Does this have anything to do with what we talked about?_"

By this point, I was wheezing, **so** out of shape. "_It's — It's not —_"

"_Nott left ages ago,_" the Chosen One told me, misinterpreting those words for my roommate's name. "_Before the countdown started._"

His wife turned to him, annoyed. "_Harry — wait outside. I'll be there in a minute._"

In the moments that followed, we were left alone. I breathed in and out, waiting for the blood to return to my brain, before I held something between us, showing the contents of my clutch to Ginny.

"_Please tell me you have the letter,_" I begged. "_Because it's not in here._"

Her eyes widened. "_I — I thought I put it back._"

"_It must have slipped out,_" I concluded, rubbing my temples with one hand. "_Gin, there are _**_names _**_on that letter. If — If anyone were to read it…_"

"_Don't worry,_" she told me, holding me by my shoulders. "_I'll stay here with you, and we'll find it, okay?_"

I smacked both hands over my face. "_I'm fucked — like royally fucked._"

Ginny did what she could to reassure me, and went so far as to recruit Harry to help us, but it was no use. Our trio searched for the next hour, through every room and every inch of the floor, to no avail.

The letter wasn't there.

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><p><strong>AN: Uh oh! Guesses?**

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Chapter Eighteen! **

**Let's pretend you can't use the Summoning Charm on a scrap of parchment, yeah? haha. **

**Anyway, some people might be upset over what happens in this chapter...sorrynotsorry.**

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><p>It was possible the letter was in the rubbish somewhere — or that it had been found and sent straight to <em>The Daily Prophet <em>headquarters, after which it would make headlines the following morning. Merlin knew those pesky journalists were simply itching for another scandal. Granted, I should probably have left the stupid thing at home or thrown it into a hot, blazing fire where it would have disintegrated and vanished from the face of the earth — but it wasn't my fault Malfoy addressed both of us by name.

I cursed him under my breath for the next hour, and ignored my best friends Harry and Ginny in their attempts to distract me.

There was no way out.

I'd have to face the music, whether that meant finding the letter printed word for word in the tabloids, or being blackmailed by the likes of Astoria Greengrass. It had been ages since the wedding incident, but I had a feeling she still had it out for me.

It was most probable for a stranger to have found it, seeing as there more of them at the party — but something deep down told me otherwise. That, and the fact that I had terrible luck. It could have been anyone — Astoria, Katherine, Daphne, Rita — even Nott. According to Harry, he had gone home before the festivities properly started. But I couldn't fathom a reason for him to have left, instead of talking to me about it first.

Then again, the fact that I had the letter with me at all was to protect the contents from him — or was it the other way around?

I couldn't be sure.

I had no choice but to ignore those thoughts and go home. In doing so, I stumbled through the front door and into my bedroom, knowing all the while that Nott was somewhere around, perhaps waiting for the right moment to bring it up. I wished he would. It was better that he approached me sooner rather than later. I couldn't take the suspense. I had to sort this out, as fast as possible, so I changed into some comfortable clothes and moved to his bedroom.

For some reason, the door was ajar.

I peered inside, and noticed the room was vacant and that the bed was still made.

Peculiar.

Surely, he can't have been out. It was late _and_ he had work in the morning. If there were anyone more punctual than yours truly, it was Theodore Nott. True, he was a little absentminded in terms of social gatherings but he had never, in the two years we had known each other, done so much as sleep late on a work night.

Something had to be wrong — but I couldn't think straight. I was exhausted, tired from all the highs and lows.

In somewhat of a trance, I proceeded into his bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. It smelled fresh, like fabric softener mixed with mountain-scented body wash — a nice scent for a man's bed.

It was relaxing.

I spread across the bed sheets, twisting in them as the tension in my muscles started to fade. Being there reminded me of something, though I couldn't discern the source. In the back of my mind, I knew I shouldn't have been in his bedroom and that the sight of me sprawled over his bed would spark an entirely new sequence of events — but I was too comfortable.

In a matter of seconds, my eyelashes fluttered and I could feel the gradual haze that was slumber overtake me.

I breathed in and out, relaxed to the point that I didn't hear the footsteps — or the sound of the door as it opened. It was when the door closed, that I felt a hitch in my chest and noticed the wizard as he moved to his desk to set down his bag. For some reason, he wasn't dressed as I had last seen him. More than that, he hadn't noticed me. Granted, the lights were dimmed and he wasn't _looking_ for me as I had looked for him — but that did nothing to calm the nerves in my chest.

I then realized, rather quickly, that he was dressed in his Healer clothes and that he had been called into work. It turned out the holidays were the busiest time of year at _St. Mungo's — _as people were more likely to be drugged with love potion sweets (cough) and other mischief. It made sense that he'd been called in on New Year's Eve.

But the moment I realized this, was the moment he undressed, down to his boxers, and moved to the bed.

"_What the — Who — Granger?!_"

I froze for about three seconds, before turning to his side of the bed; disoriented, as though I'd been asleep and _hadn't_ watched him strip down to his underwear.

"_You're home…_" I breathed out, feigning exhaustion as I sat upright.

"_I was called into work,_" he explained, chest pumping from residual shock. "_Is — Is something wrong?_"

I opened my mouth to respond, sparing one second of thought before blurting the first thing that came to mind. "_Just — erm — Just a nightmare._"

"_Oh,_" he blanked, a swift rase in his brow. "_Are you okay?_"

"_I'm fine. I'll just — I'll go back to — erm —_" In a rather awkward fashion, I rose from the bed and moved to the door, knowing he was looking at me and that my nightmare excuse didn't fool him for a second. "_Actually —_" I turned, facing him. "_You didn't find anything peculiar at the party, did you?_"

He paused. "_Define peculiar._"

"_Erm…you know…_" I thought for a moment. "_Misplaced artifacts, lost articles of clothing, random love notes…that sort of thing._"

"_Love notes?_" he repeated, perplexed. "_Can't say I did…_"

An internal wave of relief passed through me. "_I — erm — I'm only asking because Ginny dropped something on her way out, and we searched everywhere for it._"

Nott eyed me, unconvinced but too tired to further question me. "_I'm sure Daphne will have it ready for her in the morning. She's quite thorough._"

"_Right…_" I nodded, a little worried. "_In that case, I'll…erm…I'll be on my way._"

It was around that time, that the vibe in the room changed. I turned on one heel and curved my hand around the doorknob, before his voice broke through.

"_Hermione — wait — _"

I froze, attuned with the fact that he reserved my given name for serious matters. It was possible that he lied to me about not finding anything at the party, and that this was the moment that would ruin our friendship and living situation, and send me spiralling into a whirlwind of angst and depression and —

"_Your nightmare,_" he interjected, causing the onslaught to vanish as fast as it came. "_How bad was it?_"

I stood there, across the door, where my fingers brushed against the cold metal in rhythm with the shiver that traveled the length of my spine. "_Terrible,_" I told him, uncertain as to where this response had come from.

Perhaps it was an amalgamation of the things that happened earlier in the night and the inevitable consequences. Perhaps it was something else, something a little less obvious. Regardless, there was no time for me to think on it.

Behind me, there was movement.

I turned around, and found him near his dresser, where he slipped on a fitted white t-shirt, before moving back to his bed and dividing the sides with one pillow.

"_You can sleep here,_" he said, noticing the look on my face. "_For tonight._"

"_Oh…_" I opened my mouth to object, struggling for whatever reason. "_I…erm…_"

Nott climbed in.

It appeared the door was open for me, should I choose to accept. I stood there, for an embarrassing amount of time, before feeling the weight of the decision dissipate with the nerves in my chest. It was harmless. I'd slept in the same bed as Harry at least a dozen times. Nott shouldn't have been any different.

But something inside me told me he was.

I ignored that feeling.

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><p><strong>AN: So now that his name is crossed out, who do we think took the letter? **

**...or was there even a letter to begin with... *suspenseful music* **

**Sorry. I haven't slept in awhile. **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Chapter Nineteen! **

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><p>It was still dark outside, around the time my eyes fluttered open.<p>

I could feel something around my waist. It was warm, definitely an appendage. For a moment, I thought Crookshanks had risen from the dead and nestled up next to me, as he had once done. But this was not the case. It took about five seconds for me to realize that I was not in my own bed and that the warmth around my waist couldn't possibly belong to my deceased cat.

It belonged to my roommate.

For some reason, the divider was no longer in place. Because of this, there was no barrier between us. His arm was around me, drawing me close, close enough that our bodies were shaped together. It wasn't a bad feeling. I mean, it wasn't _good _for platonic friendship, seeing as spooning with one another would inevitably make for a classic morning wood incident — but still.

It made me smile a little, knowing he was there.

I decided then, that I missed the closeness of sleeping next to another human being. It had been _years _since the last time, and we all know how that panned out. Don't misunderstand — I loved being single and having the freedom to do as I pleased. It wasn't the romantic or sexual aspects that I missed most. In fact, I didn't miss those as aspects at all. It was intimacy in the purest sense — physical closeness — that I craved.

Part of me wondered if the same was true for Nott.

I knew he wasn't seeing anyone, and that he spent most nights sleeping alone in his enormous bed reviewing hospital records — or working. As carefree as he was, he had to be at least a little lonesome. I mean, I had been in his bed for about three hours, and he was already pressed up against me.

It was kind of cute — but I couldn't jeopardize our friendship.

I had no choice. I had to leave his bed and return to mine _without _waking him up.

Simple enough.

I'd done it about a hundred times during mine and Ron's short-lived relationship. I mean, sure, it had been six years since then, but I likened bedroom tactics to learning how to ride a bike. Impossible to forget. Bearing this in mind, I shifted a little, testing the waters for a moment, before deciding it was time. I moved at a nice, even pace, first lifting the covers from me and then dragging my legs over the side of the bed.

Behind me, he stirred here and there, during which time I stopped and waited until he settled. It would have been easier to just wake him up and tell him I was going back to my room, but he was too adorable with his face plastered against the pillow and his soft, surprisingly serene breaths. I didn't have the heart to wake him. I had to do this as quick and quiet as possible.

I'm sure I looked ridiculous doing it, but I had no choice.

I made motion to remove his arm from around my waist and tuck a pillow under it, in place of me. It was a classic maneuver, one that I perfected during the Ron days — but the moment I brushed his hand with mine, was the moment he stirred into a dazed, semi-conscious state and drew me in, even closer, whispering something that sounded vaguely like _stay _into the curve of my neck.

**_The Next Morning_**

It was raining.

I struggled to regain control of my umbrella, cursing Daphne for setting up anti-Apparition barriers around her house and neglecting to sort out her connection to the Floo network. The closest I could Floo to her house was in the neighbouring town, which was still fifteen minutes on foot.

Perfect for the summer, but not for the winter.

Thankfully, there wasn't much snow. Just rain. I quickly magicked the umbrella to not bend out of shape and hurried to the front steps of her house. It looked different than last night, mostly because the curtains were closed and there weren't hundreds of guests walking in and out.

Regardless, I had to stay focused.

It was a long shot, but I had to return and search _one more time _for the letter. Part of me felt it was still in the house somewhere, laying around, waiting to be found. I held on to this hope and knocked on the door, having owled Daphne earlier in the morning that I would be there to pick up something left behind.

"_Hermione,_" she greeted, embracing me as she opened the door. "_Come inside. It's dreadful out there!_"

I smiled in thanks and followed her through the foyer, where she hung my traveling cloak and ushered me into the main area. It was, to my great disappointment, spick and span. If I hadn't been there myself, I would have questioned whether there had been a party at all.

Daphne noticed the fall in my expression. "_I asked the housekeepers to place lost items in the guest room down the first floor corridor_," she explained, adorned in an ivory white dressing gown that flowed behind her with each step, practically aglow as she led me to the room in question. "_Anyway, I'm glad you're here. I was about to send invitations to Ron's surprise birthday party, which I know isn't for another couple months, but I figured it would be best to let everyone know well in advance for scheduling purposes. Also — I need your opinion on something._"

I looked to her, perplexed. "_To do with the party?_"

She nodded and then wavered. "_Erm — it's not so much a party as it is the lot of us going on holiday to Whistler._"

"_Whistler?_" I repeated, eyes wider than ever. "_As in…British Columbia?_"

"_Yes, which I realize is a little unorthodox for witches and wizards, but Ron has always mentioned that he's wanted to go skiing and my parents have a lodge there, so I figured we should all go as a group and mix in with the Muggles,_" she told me, clearly having thought this through. "_I've never been to a Muggle destination, but my parents told me it's lovely and that the snow stays well into Spring. What do you think?_"

I blinked, and then nodded, rapidly. "_Pardon my language, but that sounds bloody amazing. I wish I had a girlfriend to take me on ski trips!_"

She laughed at this, hooking our arms together. "_I don't know about the girlfriend part, but you're certainly invited to come. Oh, and, would you mind explaining to me the mechanics of skiing? I tried researching it on the…erm…inter-site…but it's all very confusing._"

My face screwed, as I recalled my first and only attempt at skiing. "_I can try…_"

"_Perfect,_" Daphne smiled, stopping in front of the guest room. "_Well, when you're done here, meet me in the kitchen and we'll have some breakfast, yeah?_"

"_Sounds brilliant,_" I smiled back, surprised as she kissed me on both cheeks before leaving me to my own devices.

It still startled me to think Ron managed to pull someone as effortlessly gorgeous as Daphne — but this only reaffirmed to me that she was a good person. Plus, she was about to take him and his friends on holiday to fucking Whistler. It would have been a crime not to like her.

Despite this, there were more important matters at hand.

I entered the guest bedroom and found the usual neutral-toned furniture, along with random articles of clothing strewn about, with the occasional shoe, and even a pair of nan-sized knickers — but no letters.

It was beginning to worry me. I honestly believed I would find the letter there, that perhaps the universe would grant me this one wish.

But, no.

I tilted my head back; frustrated. If there were ever a moment to travel back in time and do things differently, it was then. I couldn't handle another publicized scandal. It had been two years since my last one, and people still talked about it. One more and even I would start to believe the papers.

"_There goes the promotion…_" I mumbled to myself, having applied for one about a week ago.

It was the Head Auror's second-in-command, seeing as the current Head, Kingsley Shacklebolt, was to retire in a two month's time, after which his position would be given to Harry, leaving Harry's former position open for hire.

I wanted it, as I yearned for more responsibility in the department — and the raise in salary didn't hurt either.

But I would have to kiss those dreams goodbye.

There was no chance in hell that I would be hired as second-in-command with yet _another _scandal in the papers. This one would be arguably worse than the first, as there was documented evidence.

I cringed thinking about it, and made motion to leave for the kitchen, cursing the voice in my head that told me to bring the letter in the first place, before stopping dead in my tracks.

It was faint, difficult to make out against the sound of rain pouring hard on the roof but the more I listened, the easier it was to hear. Voices. Raised voices. I swallowed hard, thinking maybe the voices belonged to Malfoy and Katherine, and that I had caught them in the middle of another argument, but neither of the voices resembled the American.

In fact, they were both male — and both familiar.

I tossed one look over my shoulder to make sure Daphne wasn't there, and quickly followed the voices to the room situated on the other end of the corridor. It was a bad idea — but I couldn't satiate the curiosity in my bloodstream without finding out what all the commotion was about.

Bearing this in mind, I moved closer and pressed an ear to the door.

" — _It's none of your business._"

"_It is my business because she's my friend, and you're taking advantage of her._"

"_Does your girlfriend know you're here, defending Hermione's honour?_"

"_What does that have to do with anything?_"

"_Ha! Thought so. Don't stand there and pretend you're some righteous Gryffindor. I know you, Weasley. I know the only reason you're in here shouting at me, instead of giving Hermione the letter back, is because you're not over her and you can't, in your right mind, relinquish the chance to break my face in. Why? Because we both know what happened between me and her. It's in that letter._"

"_You're so full of shit, I can smell it from here._"

"_Talk is cheap. If you want to have a go at me, do it now._"

"_I'm not here to fight you, you moron. I'm here to demand that you apologize to Hermione and then to Katherine — before I hand her this letter myself and destroy your relationship for good._"

"_You're a little late on that one. She broke up with me last night._"

"_Smart girl._"

"_I'm sure Daphne will have the same revelation and dump your arse soon enough._"

"_I can't see why she would, since, you know, I treat women with respect. Do you know what that word means, or did you daddy not teach you about boundaries?_"

"_Don't utter another word about my family, Weasel. Merlin knows I have an entire payload on yours._"

"_Whatever you say, Ferret. Just apologize to Hermione and this will all be over._"

"_I already did — last night._"

"_And?_"

"_We topped it off with a midnight snog. What else?_"

"_You're disgusting._"

"_No, I'm a human being and I make mistakes. Hermione understands that. Maybe you and the rest of your friends could learn a thing or two from her._"

"_Yeah, like the way she smacked you across the face in our third year. I've been meaning to learn that._"

"_Sure._"

"_Apologize to her._"

"_Already did._"

"_Then do it again._"

"_I don't have time for this. Get out of my way, Weas —_"

In a sudden, blindingly fast manoeuvre, I darted into another room and closed my eyes, after which a set of footsteps echoed down the corridor — closely followed by another.

Ron.

Ron had the letter.

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><p><strong>AN: Oh snaaaap! **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Chapter Twenty! Oh, ladies, guys, people, this fic is primarily about Hermione's journey through relationships and stuff, spanning her teen years and her twenties, so she'll obviously be in relationships with different guys at various points. Just because there's minimum Draco right now, doesn't mean he won't be back full swing. I realize that's kind of a spoiler, but I felt I had to say this somewhere, since people are freaking out about the pairing in the description. **

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><p>In another life, I'm sure mine and Ron's relationship would have panned out better. I mean, he was a complete knob during our teenaged years — but he had changed significantly since then and grown into a smart, well-rounded young man. I was proud of him, more than anything. I was proud that he excelled in his career and that he was able to sustain a relationship with someone as far out of his comfort zone as Daphne.<p>

Did I mention she was also a Healer? Because there's that, too. Nott introduced us the first time, during the Harvest Moon party. Before then, I'd seen her at various social gatherings but I'd never spoken to her on a proper woman-to-woman level. Sensing this, my roommate took it upon himself to facilitate a meeting without the added tension that society placed on us for having one man in common.

Nott did things like that; kind, thoughtful things that went over most peoples' heads.

Bearing this in mind, let's progress to what happened _after _my little eavesdropping session.

I returned home at around nine o'clock that night, knackered from being out and about with Daphne. I'd somehow convinced her to hang out in town as opposed to her house, seeing as Ronald and Draco were both there — and I would rather have sold my left tit than face them.

I needed time to process.

More than that, I needed a break.

It was difficult running around, chasing after Death Eaters, but I would have taken Death Eaters over drama a million times over. I hated being caught in the middle of things. On one hand, I appreciated that Ronald had it in him to defend me after everything that happened between us, but on the other hand I understood Draco's disposition as well.

Sending me that letter had been a massive, massive mistake — but it didn't change the fact that there was chemistry between us and that we had, in fact, shared a kiss at midnight. It lasted a couple seconds at most, long enough for me to realize I still felt something for him, but not enough to reconcile our differences.

I buried those feelings and that tension deep inside, and unlocked the front door to mine and Nott's house; startled, as I slammed against his chest.

"_Oh my — Granger —_" In one swift motion, he swept an arm around me and held me in place, mere moments before I fell flat on my arse. "_Are you all right?_"

"_Er —_" I wanted to answer, but the moment I gathered myself and looked at him, I noticed his change in attire.

Nott was like me, in that he didn't care enough to dress up without an occasion — but that night there was something different about him. For the first time in a long, long time, he wasn't dressed in Healer uniform or his usual ensemble of black on black. I fixed my attention on him, and took note of his fitted denim trousers, along with his unbuttoned white henley and faded leather jacket.

I stared at him for about a minute, during which time there was a quiver along my bottom lip — one that I'm sure he noticed. "_Going somewhere?_"

"_I'm headed to the pub with Blaise,_" he explained. " _— mostly against my will._"

"_Oh —_" I laughed, relieved for whatever reason.

In this moment, he ran a hand through his hair and allowed several wayward locks to feather over his forehead. "_You should come with me._"

I paused.

"— _If you want to,_" he furthered. "_Blaise asked me to bring you along._"

"_Really?_" I inquired, a distinct arch in my brow.

Nott nodded, masking the indiscernible look in his eyes with a quick grin. "_Bear in mind that he probably wants to sleep with you._"

The arch deepened. "_— and you're okay with this?_"

"_I trust your judgement,_" he shrugged, casual. "_Should I not?_"

I didn't have a response to this, as things between us had been left on an unspoken note since morning. I awoke to find him dressed for work, and pretended to be fast asleep until the front door closed behind him. It was difficult for me, having to face him after last night. I wasn't sure if he even remembered what he had done — how he slipped an arm around my waist and grazed my bare skin with his fingertips, whilst his lips were pressed to the crook of my neck.

But the longer I dwelled on it, the more tense things became.

"_Give me a minute to change,_" I told him, no longer exhausted as I proceeded into my bedroom and rummaged through my clothes for something to wear.

After several moments of searching, I landed on something. It turned out to be Jillian's Christmas gift to me — an aged rose shift dress matched with black t-strap pumps. I had to admit, the outfit was a little much for a pub, but something in my subconscious told me I had to look good that night. That in mind, I returned to the main area with my hair in a loose knot and some light makeup to accent my eyes and cheekbones.

Nott stood there, waiting for me with his back turned, before tossing one look over his shoulder and staring at me with that same indiscernible look in his eyes.

I moved around him, to the door. "_Ready to go?_"

His expression wavered some. "_Y — Yeah._"

**_One Hour Later_**

It was an interesting locale.

There was nice music and a decent crowd, neither too few nor too many. I'd never been there before. It seemed most nights I was either at work or struggling to work at home. If I went out at all, it was usually with Ginny and Daphne, or Jillian and some of her friends, but that night I was out with Nott and his best mate from school.

Blaise was nothing like I remembered.

For one, he wasn't shouting offensive things at me as he had done on one occasion during our time at Hogwarts. For another, he was quite pleasant to be around. It made sense to me that he and Nott kept in touch and maintained their friendship. I could see traces of maturity in him that weren't present before; along with the fact that he filled out his clothes _a lot _better than when he was a teenager.

Trust me on this. I tried not to stare too much, though I figured the open mouth and twirling of the hair were dead giveaways.

Even so, the attraction was manageable _until_ Nott left the table to order another round. It was around that time that I was left alone with Blaise — and those broad, herculean shoulders of his.

"_So, tell me, what does Hermione Granger get up to these days?_" he asked, speaking directly into my ear as the music was so loud.

I smiled at him. "_Work, most of the time. How about you?_"

"_Same,_" he mouthed. "_I'm touring with the Weird Sisters, so that keeps me busy._"

Right — I should explain.

Blaise was a rising musician, and hired as the opening act for the most successful band in wizarding history. It was a massive deal, and I felt stupid for not knowing about it until then.

In the moments that followed, we immersed ourselves in discussion over wizarding music versus Muggle music and entered quite the debate over who had the better voice between Freddie Mercury and Myron Wagtail. I, of course, favoured Mercery, as he was the lead vocalist of my favourite band (_Queen —_ in case you were born yesterday) whereas Blaise favoured Wagtail.

It was quite heated, to be honest.

Nott returned with our drinks some time later, claiming the bartender ignored him to serve some part-veela witches from Romania.

Blaise patted him on the back and demanded he settle the debate. "_Mate, you have to tell your girlfriend about the Weird Sisters' show in Reading last spring. Wagtail lit the stage on fire! Literally!_"

I fixed my attention on Nott, and noticed the twitch on his lip at the sound of that one word. I'm sure Blaise knew we were friends but he seemed the cheeky type. It was a harmless joke, of course, but it still passed a sweltering wave through me — one that relapsed over the crook of my neck…again and again and again.

"_You're both wrong,_" Nott finally said, standing. "_Morrissey wins, hands down!_"

From there, the three of us laughed and drank and watched a brave few perform on the main stage — as it was open mic night. I'd never been to an open mic before. It always seemed embarrassing to me, watching amateurs take the stage, but the more I listened, the less those judgments clouded my brain.

It didn't hurt that I had a few drinks in me.

(More like six or seven — but you get the idea!)

It seemed I was having a better time than anticipated, as the hours passed at break-neck speed, to the point that it was close to midnight and the scheduled performers finished their sets. Around then, the atmosphere turned into more of a karaoke vibe and some drunk wizards from the Healer school across the street insisted on paying tribute to the _Weird Sisters' _rival band.

Blaise didn't like this — at all — and without telling me or Nott, rose from his seat and snatched the mic from their hands before paying tribute to his own idols. It was hilarious because he was drunk and stumbled a bit, but he didn't mess up the words at all, nor did he miss a single beat.

I'd never seen someone I knew take control of a stage like that. His voice was quite deep in conversation, but he could take it high in song and then low, in such a way that you could feel it in your chest. His dance moves were quite remarkable, as well, and I made mental note to remind him of those moves the next time we hung out.

I rose from my chair and clapped for him once the song was over. Everyone around me followed suit, and about three of those Romanian witches rushed to him for autographs and flirted _at_ him shamelessly.

Blaise took it in stride, as he was probably used to such behaviour on tour.

All in all, it was shaping up to be one of the best, most carefree nights I'd had in a long time — _until _Blaise returned to our table with the mic in his hand. I could see it coming, but I didn't move for whatever reason.

"_Your turn,_" he said to me, winking as he handed me the mic.

I blanked, holding the device with my mouth hanging open and with everyone in the pub staring at me, waiting for me to do something. I was sure most of them recognized me from the papers and wondered whether or not the hype was true. I didn't want to confirm that I was a _desperate, depraved sex fiend _— but I didn't want to stay locked up in my shell for all eternity either.

Sensing this, Nott leaned close and whispered something. _Show them who you are_, he said to me, knowing my worries and insecurities as though they were his own.

Just like that, my mind was decided.

This was my chance.

This was my chance to stand the fuck up and demand people see me for me, and not the person those damned tabloids painted me to be.

That in mind, I proceeded to the main stage and undid the pin that held my hair in place, before tossing it to the side and allowing my natural curls to bounce down to my elbows and all around my face. If I had to do this, I would keep it one hundred percent _me_ — which meant no _Sleekeazy Hair Potion _and no one to hide behind.

Part of me wanted the tabloids to hear about this.

Part of me wanted people to talk.

I whispered my song selection to the man in charge and held the microphone to my mouth. It was then that the venue dimmed, and a single spotlight beamed down on me. I took note of the fact that this hadn't happened when Blaise or those lads from Healer school performed, but it didn't matter because the new lighting faded those curious faces from my vision and made it so there was only me, the stage and the microphone.

I took a deep, encompassing breath and sang those first few lyrics.

_Tonight I'm gonna have myself a real good time_

People whispered, perhaps trying to name the song, or to make fun of me. It was difficult to decide.

_I feel alive and the world it's turning inside out, yeah_

I tried hard not to focus on them. I tried only to sing and to get through the song in one piece — so I closed my eyes and continued.

_I'm floating around in ecstasy_

_So don't stop me now — don't stop me_

Once those lyrics left my mouth, the whispers faded.

It was possible the self-preservation in me had simply blocked the whispers out — but I realized then that I didn't care.

_'Cause I'm having a good time_

_Having a good time_

I opened my eyes and went for it.

_I'm a shooting star leaping through the skies_

_Like a tiger defying the laws of gravity_

One stride after another, the music and the instruments rose in volume, in tune with the lyrics as they carried the song into the highest of highs and in tune with me, as I sang as best I could.

Granted, my rendition was far and away from perfect. I made several mistakes and sang _way _off pitch but the point was that I had fun doing it.

Several people stood, dancing as the tempo rose to knew heights.

_I'm a racing car passing by like Lady Godiva_

I wondered, in a deep, distant part of my brain, whether Nott spiked my drinks and whether the high I felt was at all natural.

_I'm gonna go — go — go!_

_There's not stopping me!_

I danced. I spun around. I tossed my head around and immersed myself in the song and the lyrics and the sound of people singing along with me. It was the strangest feeling in the world, being scrutinized since I was teenager and then this, having the confidence to let loose in front of all these people. I could hardly believe it. It felt amazing — euphoric.

…and I knew it was down to one person.

In part, Blaise, for even suggesting that I take the stage.

But his wasn't the name that came to mind. There was only one person out there to ever have built me up instead of tear me down. I sang the song for him, for having such an amazing, thoughtful, beautiful influence in my life.

Maybe the universe didn't hate me so much after all.

Maybe the universe had been trying to tell me something all along.

**_Two Hours Later _**

Blaise left with one of the Romanian girls and parted ways with us about a minute into our walk home. It would have been faster to Apparate, but doing that required focus and we were still under the influence of this and that, definitely not looking to get splinched. That in mind, we laughed and continued onward with our arms slung around each other as we stumbled through the front door and into the lounge.

It was dim inside the house, which proved difficult seeing as we were both a _little bit_ _drunk_ and struggling to walk, let alone make it to our bedrooms in one piece.

"_Mercury…_" Nott voiced, sounding as exhausted as he looked, as we collapsed onto the same sofa, facing one another.

I blinked several times, striving to keep my eyes open. "_Hmm?_"

"_Mercury wins…_" he furthered, echoing the earlier debate, fighting to stay awake.

It took a moment for me to realize what he was talking about, after which I smiled against the fabric of his shirt and realized then, how close we were and how natural it felt to be near him.

"_Morrissey isn't so bad either…_" I murmured.

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><p><strong>AN: Thoughts?**

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Warning... might be a little serious.**

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><p>It was the break of dawn, when he carried me from the lounge, where we had slept, down the corridor, and into my bedroom. I could feel his arms around me, and his calm, even heartbeat. Part of me wondered why he hadn't levitated me with magic — but somewhere deep down, the answer was there. It was strange to think one person's return would cause another bond to flourish, but that's what happened, what was <em>still <em>happening, what I hoped would never stop…

"_Theo…_" I murmured, reaching out, grazing his forearms with my fingertips, as he lowered me to the bed. "_Where...Where are you going...?_"

For a moment, we were suspended in this in-between place, where anything could have happened, where the ground could have shifted beneath us and the tides could have turned, before he answered me. "_St. Mungo's_" he whispered back, placating the tension between us with an unexpected kiss on the cheek. "_I'll be back tonight...Sleep well, Hermione._"

**_One Week Later_**

It had been seven days since Theodore Nott left for the hospital_, _with no word from him other than an obscure letter the night he should have returned. There was no explanation in that letter, no indication as to where he was or what was keeping him. I had only the nerves that ricocheted within the confines of my ribcage, and the small tendril of fear that coiled around my heart, tightening more and more and more, with each second he was gone.

I tried reaching out to Daphne, as she worked with him, but she had no idea where he was — which meant something was wrong.

On the seventh night, there was another letter, delivered to me at the Auror Office.

_I'm sorry. _

_I can't tell you what's going on, only that I'm fine and that I'll be back soon. _

_x_

Again, it was obscure.

Harry assured me he was fine, and that if anything dangerous had happened to him, it would have been clear in his letters. But I could see no signs of tension or danger in his wording or handwriting. It seemed something had happened, something he didn't want to talk about with me or anyone else.

It was then that I recalled the few words we'd exchanged before he left.

Perhaps he wasn't lying to me about _St. Mungo's. _Perhaps he was there — not as a Healer but as a patient.

On the eighth night, Daphne invited our circle of friends to her house for dinner.

I had originally planned not to attend, seeing as _a certain someone_ was still in town, and I had no stomach for that drama, but Harry and Ginny convinced me otherwise. I sat with them and the others at the dinner table, and ate what little I could, whilst drowning my sorrows in white wine and avoiding the passing glances of the person seated diagonal from me.

It was an hour into dinner, that I excused myself from the table and made claims to use the ladies room.

From there, that person followed me.

I calculated his footsteps about ten seconds behind mine, following me through the corridor and into the guest room furthest from the dining room. I'm sure it looked quite scandalous, but I didn't care. I rounded the corner and waited for him inside, seated at the edge of the bed, with both arms behind me for support.

On the tenth second, he arrived, leaning against the doorframe with that classic look about him; silent but deadly.

"_Where's Nott?_" I demanded.

Without another word, the young man — tall, blonde-haired and dressed to perfection — handed me an invitation card. It wasn't creme coloured as Harry and Ginny's wedding invitation had been. It was plain white, with plain black lettering. I glanced at him, confused, until laying eyes on the words in front of me.

_In Loving Memory _

_of_

_Theodore Nott_

I felt that same tendril tighten, suffocating me as the card begin to slip from my fingertips. "_Wh — What is this? What am I holding?_"

"_It's for his father,_" Draco explained, quickly realizing that I had misinterpreted the funeral invitation. "_Theodore Nott Sr. fell ill eight days ago, and passed away the night before last — at St. Mungo's._"

It hit me like a ton of bricks.

You see, in the time I had known Nott and lived with him, he had never once spoken about his father — his last living relative. To my knowledge, they didn't have the best bond, as Nott didn't share his father's traditional views on blood status and wealth and things of that nature. Nott Sr. had also been a lot older than his wife, the latter of whom had died giving birth to their one and only child.

"_Where did you get this?_" I asked Draco, noticing he'd closed the door.

"_All pureblood families received invitations,_" he explained. "_Sacred Twenty-Eight._"

I'd read about the Sacred Twenty-Eight once before, knowing they were an ancient group consisting of the truest, purest bloodlines in the British wizarding world. As fate would have it, Nott and Draco were amongst this group — as were Daphne and Astoria.

Draco, as though sensing my next question, answered it before the words escaped my lips. "_Daphne doesn't know._"

I nodded, feeling she wouldn't have lied to me about Nott's whereabouts. "_So…his father…passed…_"

"_How are you feeling?_" Draco asked.

"_I don't know. I just need to find him._"

"_Well…_" he thought aloud. "…c_hances are he's at the Nott Family Manor, sorting out funeral preparations and figuring out what to do with his family's estate._"

I could hear him, but I wasn't listening. I could only think about my roommate and how heartbroken he must have been, thinking he had to go through this alone and that no one — including me — would understand. Both my parents were alive and well, but I did lose people dear to me before and after the Second Wizarding War. It hurt a little, that he didn't trust me enough to tell me what was going on all this time, but I couldn't think about it like that.

This wasn't about me.

This was about his father.

"_Would you be willing to take me there?_" I blurted, staring up at the blonde wizard with moisture in my eyes.

Draco paused a moment, before nodding. "_Yeah. Yeah, of course, I'll take you._"

I swallowed down the tension and smiled. "_Thank you._"

"_If you want to talk to Nott privately, we should probably leave tonight. I'm sure the manor will be packed with people come morning._"

"_Okay — just —_" I breathed, in and out. "_Give me a minute._"

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><p><strong>AN: Thoughts?**

**Cheers**

**xo.**

**(P.S. I'm looking for actors/models to represent characters in this story. I have most of them sorted, but I still need to find representations for Draco, Ginny, and Harry. Suggestions are welcome!)**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Here's a quickie.**

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><p>If his intentions with me weren't clear, I hadn't realized it.<p>

I walked with Draco from the Port Key, deep into the forest where the Nott Family Manor was situated; hidden from plain sight and protected by ancient magic. It was no secret to me that Theodore Nott Sr. had been a Death Eater — at least during the First Wizarding War and Voldemort's uprising. To my knowledge, he had been too old and too much of a liability to join the second time around, but he did lend what little support he could to the Death Eaters.

His son was different.

I thought distantly about the first time I'd met Nott. It was in Second Year, after we were paired to work together on a Potions assignment. Being that we were both young and strongly divided by our rival houses, we kept it business only and refrained from speaking more than we had to. Even then, I could tell there was something different about him — about the only Slytherin in school who didn't have it out for me and my friends.

Draco noticed the smile on my face and suggested we take a breather, as we'd been walking for the past hour. It seemed none of the pureblood families allowed Apparition within their grounds — to our great dismay.

"_You care a lot about him,_" he commented. "_It's plain as day._"

I turned to the fair-haired wizard, perplexed. "_Of course, I do. We're best friends._"

His smirk was legendary. "_I wasn't born yesterday, Granger._"

"_What are you implying?_"

"_You're in love with him,_" he answered, casual, still smirking. "_Arse over elbow in love, with a cherry on top._"

I narrowed my eyes. "_Just because I'm not jumping at the opportunity to sleep with you, doesn't mean I'm interested in someone else._"

His smirk deepened. "_Oh? So you're still interested in me…_"

"_What?_" I blurted, face contorting. "_Now you're putting words into my mouth._"

From there, we kept moving, though I could feel him toss the odd look at me. It was preposterous, for him to suggest I was in love with Nott. I mean, sure, things between us had changed in the last couple weeks, but that didn't mean I was in love with the man. Granted…he was a good man…kind, thoughtful, honest, strong, smart, punctual, charming, pleasurable, neat, attractive, warm…very, very warm…but that wasn't the point!

"_I'm not in love with him,_" I mumbled under my breath — stomping ahead, in an attempt to keep a fair distance between myself and my accomplice.

Our walk would probably have gone faster, had we brought broomsticks or another form of transportation, but Draco insisted on walking — to which I didn't object seeing as I hated flying. Even so, the journey was cumbersome. I felt my legs begin to give out about ten minutes later, after which I grasped one of the nearby trees and struggled to stand.

"_What…What's going on?_" I demanded, having walked longer distances at faster speeds numerous times. "_What is this…? What's happening…?_"

Draco found my side and helped me upright, with an arm under my shoulders. "_It must be some sort of weakening magic against Muggles and Muggle-borns,_" he thought aloud. "_Nott Sr. was a bit of a dick that way._"

"_The man is dead,_" I hissed. "_Mind your tongue._"

"_The man also disowned his only son because he wouldn't become a Death Eater,_" Draco retorted, swift in his response. "_Lay down a moment. I'll see if I have any Revive Potion._"

I felt my consciousness begin to fade, as I slumped against the base of the tree. It was strange to me that I hadn't read or heard about any such magic, exclusive to Muggles and Muggle-borns, but those thoughts were no more, as my surroundings swirled with the skies, in rhythm with the moment darkness took over.

**_Two Hours Later_**

In the dead of night, my eyes fluttered open.

It appeared Draco had been unable to find Revive Potion — shocker — as the next moment, there were no trees around me, nor grass between my fingers. I passed out in the forest and arose on an enormous canopy bed — with soft linens beneath me and sheer white coverings cascading from the antique framing. It was nice, though I didn't dwell long on the bedding and decoration.

Nott was there, seated at the foot of the bed with his back turned to me. It appeared he had fallen asleep, leaning against one of the bed posts. I thought to let him rest, but the moment I shifted, his eyes flickered open and he inhaled, unaware that he'd fallen asleep and at first, startled to find me awake.

"_Granger,_" he breathed, blinking fast. "_You're okay…_"

I smiled, knowing there was much to discuss and that we would probably disagree on more than a few matters, but I couldn't help the relief that coursed through me, knowing he was alive and well.

"_I — I'm sorry to drop in like this…_"

"_Please don't apologize,_" he told me. "_I should've told you, I know I should've, but I didn't want to involve you in this mess._"

"_It's not a mess._"

He craned his attention down, to the bedcovers. "_It's always a mess where father is concerned._"

I fell silent, knowing there was tension between him and his namesake. Draco shed light on some details, including the fact that Nott had been disowned for his choice to remain in neutral in the war. His choice didn't surprise me, but the fact that his own father disowned him did. To my knowledge, those who opposed Voldemort in any way, shape or form were hunted down and brutalized for all to bare witness. I knew that to be the reason Draco and his mother joined the Death Eaters. But there Nott was, sitting in front of me, alive.

"_Listen…_" I started, waiting as he turned to me, noticing the light stubble on his face and the fact that his hair was rather unkempt. "…_I'll spare you the formalities and move straight on to the important bit._"

"_What are you talking about?_"

I lifted the bedcovers from my body, realizing the dirt and leaves had been cleaned from my clothes, and moved to his side of the bed. "_When my grandmother died, do you want to know what I did?_"

"_…made out with that cheeky cousin of yours…?_" he guessed, tossing me a wink.

"_First of all, that was one time —_" I argued, whacking him across the chest, after which he laughed and shielded himself with both arms. "_Second, no._"

"_Okay, okay, okay!_" he begged, holding his hands up in surrender, smiling in such a way that told me he hadn't for a long, long time. "_What did you do?_"

I paused a moment, recalling the time in question. It was about three years prior to then, before I had reconnected with him at the Harvest Moon Party, and before my life had turned into a soap opera.

"_I got really, really, really drunk, had an absolute shit hangover at the funeral and all the proceedings, and then I woke up the next day feeling liberated and cleansed and free from all the grieving and heartache._"

There was a prominent arch in his brow. "_Are you suggesting we get pissed up the night before my father's funeral?_"

"_No,_" I countered. "_I'm suggesting we get obliterated._"

"_Isn't that the opposite of what you should be saying?_"

"_Probably, but sitting alone and sulking about has never done anyone any good._"

For a moment, he narrowed his eyes at me, questioning whether or not those words had actually come from my mouth.

"_You're serious?_" he asked.

I nodded, smiling something sinister. "_Absolutely._"

**_Midnight_**

It was enormous, his house. It reminded of Malfoy Manor, in that it was decorated with snake statues and with loads of silver and green — only bigger and older, in a strange sense. Part of me hadn't realized the Nott's had wealth. I was aware of their blood status and prominence in the pureblood community, but I had not imagined a home so grand and filled with such priceless artifacts. It was apparent to me, within moments of the tour, that Nott Sr. had been a bit of a hoarder and that none of the Nott's, including my roommate, liked having their portrait painted. That was another difference between their home and the Malfoy's home. No portraits. Not a single trace that this home had been passed down the same bloodline for centuries — apart from the furniture and the fact that the corridors carried the distinct smell of aged mahogany.

But the more time passed, the less I could focus on those details.

In the moments that followed, we were outside, near the fountain that decorated the courtyard. I followed Nott there, and sat with him along the ledge, aware that there was a full basin of cold, crisp water behind us — and that we'd been drinking for about an hour.

It was like old times again.

"…_and then,_" he continued, telling me about the time Astoria came onto him. "_…we went back to the hotel, where she pinned me down and straddled me before the door so much as closed behind us._"

I burst out laughing, handing him the firewhiskey for safe measure. "_I'll give it to that Astoria. She knows what she wants._"

He nodded, laughing with me. "_What about you?_"

"_Mmm?_"

"_Wildest night you've had,_" he prompted, taking a swig from the bottle. "_Excluding the one with me._"

I rolled my eyes at him, still smiling. "_Do you really need to ask?_"

For a moment, it appeared he had no idea about the memory I had in mind — but his blank look faded as soon as he realized. "_Right! Balcony sex at the wedding of the century,_" he voiced, suppressing the chuckles. "_How could I forget._"

"_You weren't even there,_" I scoffed, snatching the bottle from him.

Nott grimaced. "_I had school…_"

"_Nerrrrrrrrd._"

"_I'll take that as a compliment coming from you,_" he winked, snatching the bottle before I had the chance to drink from it. "_By the way, do you still talk to Oliver?_"

I shrugged, thinking back. "_We tried for a couple weeks after the wedding, but he was busy with Quidditch and I was busy with super top secret Auror missions and things._"

"_Paperwork?_"

"_Yes, sir._"

From there, we continued our discussion and regaled several more sexual exploits before landing on one I had cleverly left out until that last moment. But Nott knew better than to assume nothing had happened between myself and Draco. I had no doubt in my mind that he was fully aware of what transpired the night of the Harvest Moon party, even before I'd told him.

"_It wasn't very memorable,_" I lied, drowning the truth with more alcohol. "_Normal sex. Nothing spectacular or noteworthy._"

Nott scoffed at this. "_You're as transparent as cling film._"

"_Nice analogy._"

"_Shut up,_" he retorted, still not convinced. "_Tell it true, Granger._"

I breathed out, frustrated over the fact that he knew me so well. "_Why do you even care about my sex life?_"

"_Because we're best friends, and best friends share these things._"

"_Yes, but we've also slept together, which makes discussing sexual things with you intensely awkward._"

"_Does it?_" he asked, eyeing me as he had another drink from our third bottle.

I nodded, aware that my temperature was burning hot, despite the cold. "_You were my first._"

Around that time, the atmosphere changed a little, adding to the blush that crept up on Nott's face. It was the first time I'd seen him genuinely react to any reference made about our one night together. Before then, it was all jokes and light teasing, but the colour on his cheeks combined with the manner in which his arm brushed up against mine made this moment all the more sobering.

"_Being someone's first is important,_" he started to say, avoiding eye contact. "_But being someone's last…that's something._"

I agreed.

It's what I used to tell myself during mine and Ron's relationship, in an attempt to push back the guilt that tugged at my heartstrings, whenever I remembered I had lost my virginity to someone else. I was convinced our relationship would last and that Ron would be the man I would marry and grow old with — but that was not the case.

Nott looked at me then. "_Do you ever think about it?_"

"_About what?_"

"_What happened in that broom closet._"

I returned his look, masking the feelings in my chest with nonchalance. "_Do you?_"

He smiled. "_I asked you first._"

"_What if I don't want to answer?_"

"_Then I'll have no choice but to assume you think about what happened between us every night and on occasion, about what it would feel like to have another go,_" he added, wearing the same indiscernible look from the night we went out to the pub. " — _because lord knows I do._"

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><p><strong>AN: Naughty boy! What do we think?**

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Chapter Twenty-Three!**

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><p>"<em>Then I'll have no choice but to assume you think about what happened between us every night and on occasion, about what it would feel like to have another go,<em>" he added, wearing the same indiscernible look from the night we went out to the pub. " — _because lord knows I do._"

It was all I could do to drown the feverish undercurrents in alcohol, using slurred speech and laboured laughter as a facade for the warmth that pooled over my chest. I forced a smile, drinking from our third bottle, aware that his eyes hadn't left mine and that our shoulders brushed up against one another, creating friction between us as we sat at the fountain, breathing the same air, thinking the same illicit thoughts. It was no secret to me that he was a sexual being. Some nights, in the quietude of our home, I could hear his tense, taut breaths — the rough, rigid groans — and the release that followed. I heard the mattress and the deep, lingering expulsions of air, wondering across the corridor, what could possibly drive him to such an unhinged, uninhibited state of abandon.

But never, in all those times, had I imagined the cause to be me.

I breathed out, realizing then that I had been holding my breath, and that the crisp, frigid winter breeze had been coaxing our bodies together for the past four…five…six…seven seconds. Our hands touched, causing the flame I had kindled for him to burn bright and without measure — after almost an entire decade of radio silence.

…eight…nine…ten seconds, and the distance was fleeting. I faced him, suspended in that same in-between place, caught in our dance of neither-here-nor-there, as his hand had brushed the skin of mine, dragging his fingertips to the inner curve of my neck, where my pulse quickened in response.

It was nothing, but everything — and penetrated the walls of my defence one second after another.

I leaned closer to him, aware that my bottom lip was quivering and that there was a hairline of moisture in both my lower lash-lines.

"_It's okay,_" he whispered to me, accenting the motion of his lips with words, as he brushed the hair from my face, soothingly. "_I'll never hurt you._"

For some reason, those words hit me harder. I hadn't realized until then, the ache I had buried deep within my chest, building more and more as the years went on and as the trust I endowed to various men had been tested and tossed aside, without the slightest ounce of remorse.

But he was different…he'd always been different…

In the seconds that followed, the tension within me melted against him, against his warmth, against the magnetism that tethered us to one another from the start. Our bodies were compelled forward, closer and closer, until all that remained were the millimetres between us, but even those came to pass, as he combed through my hair, drawing me closer, kissing the moisture from my eyes one after the other, and then lower, dragging his lips down, where mine feathered apart…waiting for him…pining for him…hovering with him in that final moment…

"_Do you want this?_" he asked me, searching for my consent.

I breathed in, filling my lungs with crisp winter air, before answering him; not with words, but with a single, moving, heart-stopping motion.

Our lips curved together, paralleled by rousing efforts to be closer, as his hands ran down to my sides, and as mine moved through the obsidian waves that comprised his hair. I could taste my tears on his lips — salty mixed with the sweetness of his breath. It was strange, the manner in which my body responded to this and the manner in which his body responded to mine.

I trembled against him, against his firm muscles and against his lips, murmuring praise as his hands found the small of my back, massaging me. It started mild and moderate — tame compared to the emotions raging within us, as we oscillated between those conditions, drawing closer and closer to the latter.

But the longer we touched and the longer we tasted, the brighter and hotter our kiss became.

I kissed him harder, reminded of the broom closet and the feelings that enveloped me then, the manner in which he liberated me from my virtue, and brought me to climax with slow, sensual motions — motions that rippled through me for weeks, months, _years_ afterwards.

"_Oh…Theo…_" I moaned, tilting my head backwards as he dragged his lips down the column of my neck and licked me there, feeling the vibrations with his tongue as I moaned again and again and again. "_Oh my…Oh my gosh…_"

It wasn't time to play it safe.

It was time for one thing and one thing only — to throw caution to the wind.

Somewhere between then and the next moment, he lifted me onto his lap, causing another flurry of emotions to surge through us, as whatever distance remained was ousted by the heat that transferred from his body to mine, and back again.

"_Hermione…_" he murmured, finding my lips again and again, curving both hands along my arse, as my hips began to rotate on his lap. "_…Herm…Hermione, wait…w…_"

I smiled against his lips, immersed in the flush that coloured his cheeks and neck, as I continued, feeling him harden beneath me. It was stiff and long, engorged in his trousers with each second I carried on. His fingers squeezed my arse, pulling me down on him harder and harder, responding to the rotation of my hips with a stir of movements that sent electric currents through my body, caught in this tango.

But the longer this lasted, the more I could see it in his eyes, that itch for release, and the simultaneous fight for control over his senses, his urges. I found myself in a similar predicament, as the feeling of him hard against me sucked the moisture from my lips and tongue, and placed it elsewhere.

"_Her…Hermione…_" he continued to say, squeezing my arse so hard that a small, pleasured whimper escaped my lips. "_Herm…Hermione…Her…H…_"

I relished the sound of my name on his tongue, almost as much as the look in his eyes as he realized what he had done to me.

It happened quick and without warning.

"_Oh…Oh…Th…Theo…!_"

I moaned into our kiss, feeling my chest bounce, as his member, although covered, stimulated me through our clothes and reduced me to a feverish, quivering mess, falling into his arms, sharing with him each individual tremor that pulsated through me.

He held me there, brushing our lips together, moistening mine with his tongue, and whispering things to me. _Breathtaking. Beautiful. Sexy. _His words consumed me, warmed me, aroused me. His arms were no different, wrapping around me, falling from my shoulders to my waist, securing me to him, tightening as the rotation of my hips returned.

I couldn't tell up from down, nor left from right. I could only see him, feel him. It should have embarrassed me that I orgasmed with our clothes still on and with the wind howling around us — but the surroundings only drove me closer and closer to him. I pressed my chest against him, knowing the shivers that ran up and down my spine had coaxed the points of my breasts to life, but I didn't care. I wanted him to see me, feel me, feel the way his body affected mine.

Within seconds, that look returned to his face, shrouded in thick, white hot desire, communicating to me the thoughts running through his mind. I had no objections. I continued to rotate and to grind and to kiss him as he had kissed me — down his neck, sucking and marking him, knowing my lips were swollen from all the contact.

But this only prompted me to continue.

I carried on and on, biting him as he squeezed me, feeling another climax rise close to the surface of my skin — close, so close — before he cried out.

"_H — Hermione! Hermione, wait!_"

In keeping with our rising rhythm, I didn't wait, realizing moments later that there was something strange about the manner in which his voice had risen.

"_Wait! H — Hold on!_" he exclaimed, compelling me out of my dazed state of mind, seconds before I faced him and noticed the incisive look in his eyes, telling me to brace myself, as he lost balance and as our bodies tumbled backwards — into the fountain.

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><p><strong>AN: So...yeah...LOL. **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Short one! I'm working through some kinks. Hopefully the next chapter will be longer.**

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><p>"<em>Oi! Granger! Wake up, piss-head!<em>"

I stared across the room with tired eyes, blocking the sunlight from me as it poured in through the window. It was morning, about an hour after sunrise, and I was back inside the manor.

But that wasn't the surprising bit.

"_What happened last night…?_" I asked, wiping the fatigue from my eyes, realizing my clothes were damp and that my hair was frizzer than usual.

Draco was there, smirking at me before tossing me the black dress I had packed for the funeral. "_You got pissed off your arse and passed out in my bed,_" he answered, gesturing to our surroundings. "_Oh — and you apparently fell into the courtyard fountain._"

"_Er —_" I gaped at him, open-mouthed. "_We didn't — We didn't —_"

"_We didn't have sex,_" he interjected, making finishing touches on his hair and dress robes. "_Though I can't say the same about you and Nott._"

I blanched, recalling bits and pieces that I remembered from the night before. To my knowledge, I'd been drinking with my best friend, trying to distract him from the fact that his estranged father had passed away, and then…nothing. It seemed, after that, the alcohol took over, leaving me with nothing but broken flashes. I sat with him by the fountain, reminiscing, drinking, and laughing together — but there was tension between us.

Like, non-platonic tension.

Draco faced me. "_You'll have time to regret it later. Get dressed. The funeral starts in less than an hour._"

**_Forty-Five Minutes Later _**

It was intensely awkward, entering the funeral grounds with no knowledge of what happened last night — and no chance to compare notes with Nott. I searched for him through the crowd of people and found him standing near the front, adjacent to the casket. It appeared he was having an even worse hangover, and that he'd likely fallen in the fountain with me.

Our eyes met for a moment, seconds before the proceedings began. It was a quick, fleeting look, one that left heat around my cheeks and neck, and confirmation that something had indeed happened between us.

I wheeled a look around the area and found Draco next — but he wasn't alone. His mother was with him, looking her usual flawless self. In the seconds that followed, the pair of them made their way to me and an introduction was in order.

"_Mother, this is Hermione Granger — Harry Potter's friend,_" he explained, tossing a sideways look at me to gauge my reaction.

"_Pleasure to meet you,_" Narcissa smiled, genuine enough. "_Come, we'll chat once the proceedings are over._"

I returned her smile and sat with them near the back.

It was an outdoor setting, similar to the one organized for Albus Dumbledore.

For some reason, that memory made this one all the more real. It was clear to me then, that this wasn't just a name written on parchment. Someone passed. Someone dear to Nott.

Now with a confusing mix of emotions tugging at my chest muscles, I sat with Draco and Narcissa, aware that she looked at me every now and then, whispering things to her son. It was strange behaviour, but I couldn't focus on them. I was focused entirely on my roommate, watching him and his reactions as people stood near the casket and left Theodore Nott Sr. with parting words.

No one cried.

But the moment Nott stood in front, was the moment I lost control.

There was something caught in his throat — words, tension, nervousness. It was all I could do, to prevent myself from running up there and holding his hand, walking him through the next few moments and hopefully, being there for him in a different capacity than last night.

Several people whispered to one another, noting the fact that he said nothing. It was a long silence, one that stretched two or three minutes, until finally he set his speech cards aside and turned to the casket.

"_Goodbye, Father…I…I'm sorry I couldn't save you._"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Any guesses as to how Hermione ended up in Draco's bed?**

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Chapter Twenty-Five!**

* * *

><p>It was around midnight, that we returned to our home in Puddlemere.<p>

The funeral proceedings went on for under an hour, after which most guests stayed for the wake and conversed with Nott about his late father. I learned then that Nott Sr. had been married to two women and had two children: the first one being a girl named Alexandra Nott (died in infancy) and the second one being Theodore Nott Jr. (my roommate). It appeared Alexandra's unfortunate death sparked the end of Nott Sr.'s first marriage, to which he clung on for a long time, until meeting his second, much younger wife, in his early 50s.

Her name was Eleanor and she died in labour, leaving an already bitter man with an even worse existence, and a newborn son to raise on his own. On top of that, she was from House Black. I recognized her name from the Black Family Tapestry, and the accompanying cigar-sized burn that denoted her banishment; not unlike her distant cousin, the famed Sirius Black.

By then, it was clear to me that Nott's family had a checkered past.

But I couldn't dwell on that information. I was too tired and too dazed to focus on anything apart from my grumbling stomach.

I entered the kitchen, starved for something to eat, aware that my roommate hadn't a bite since morning. Perhaps the saying was true and the best way to a man's heart was through his stomach. I clung onto that and made my way to the doorway of his bedroom, watching as he hovered over something in the top drawer of his dresser.

It took about thirty seconds for him to notice me.

"_Granger!_" he gasped, slamming his drawer closed, startled. "_Is — Is something wrong?_"

"_No,_" I answered, being the first word I had spoken to him all day. "_Just wondering if you want to join me for a late night snack._"

His features softened. "_Oh…yeah, I'll be there in a moment. I just need to get out of these clothes._"

I stood there an extra few seconds, allowing my eyes to dance across the markings that coloured his neck and collarbone area, along with the scratch marks along his back and abdomen, as he began to undress. Perhaps there was truth to the gnawing feeling in my stomach. Perhaps we _had _slept together.

In thinking this, I couldn't decide which bothered me most: the fact that we could possibly have engaged in drunken sex, or that I had no recollection of the incident.

I swallowed the regret and made my way to the kitchen, fumbling with what little ingredients we had left and tossing together something I hoped was edible. I wasn't much of a cook; another reason our living situation worked as well as it did. Nott was a fabulous cook. His dishes were spectacular. He loved cooking, and I loved eating. It was a match made in heaven — or a broom closet. Whichever.

"_Need help?_" he asked, eyeing me with a trace of amusement across his lips.

"_Er —_" I stared at his lips, losing my train of thought. "_Yeah — sure._"

Nott responded to this with deepening amusement, evident in his lips and eyes, and the shake of his shoulders as he moved past me and plated our food, before placing both servings on the table. It was a stir fry — simple enough for normal people but endlessly difficult for someone as discombobulated in the kitchen as yours truly.

I moved to the table with Nott and sat adjacent from him, falling into silence as we ate and reflected on the days events.

Now and then, there was a look exchanged, followed by an accompanying smile to gloss over the tension between us. I wasn't one for avoiding the obvious, but there was no part of me that was ready to discuss what could or could not have happened the night before. I didn't want to hear the details. I didn't want to hear about how I mauled him into that fountain and fucked him senseless.

I wanted to _know_ it.

But the longer I dwelled on those feelings, the harder it became to sit there with the man of the hour, less than two feet from one another, where I could easily have leaned over the table and swept him into the kiss I didn't remember.

It was hard not to imagine.

I would have him between my legs, with my hands running through his hair and my mouth devouring every inch of his unclothed body, making him writhe beneath me in wave upon wave of pure orgasmic —

"_Hermione?_"

I flicked my gaze up, noticing him staring at me with a quizzical look. "_Er…yeah?_"

"_Nothing,_" he answered, eyeing me with care. "_You just — You zoned out a little._"

"_Oh,_" I blinked, realizing he'd noticed my dream state. "_It's been a long day._"

Nott moved his head in agreement, having finished his plate. "_Sorry, we couldn't talk earlier. I tried but…there were so many people and…_"

I flashed him a knowing look. "_Don't apologize. Today wasn't about me._"

"_I know but…_"

"_Honestly. I just want to know that you'll be okay._"

"_Thank you,_" he said to me, holding our gaze for a moment longer than expected.

In the seconds that followed, we cleared our plates and tag-teamed washing and drying. Granted, we could have left it till morning but neither of us could sleep a wink knowing there was a mess in the house. Another reason we were made to live together.

I proceeded into the bath some moments later, itching to relax in the warmth that I had craved since morning. It was a struggle getting ready in time for the funeral, leaving me with no time to shower or even slap on some deodorant. Luckily, there was still _scourgify_ which I used several times throughout the day, fearing my…feminine musk…would gain some unnecessary attention.

That in mind, I stripped out of my dress and knickers, and sunk deep into the tub, submerging my entire body in the water. It was positively blissful. I sighed with an animated smile on my face, enjoying the water as it was for about a minute before reaching over and opening the cupboard under the sink, where a bottle of my most favourite bubble bath lay waiting.

It was a blend of vanilla, brown sugar and nutmeg; delightful to my nostrils and the perfect scent to unwind the knots that networked my arms and legs.

"_Granger? You in there?_"

"_Shit —_" I blurted, watching ripples of water splashed to the tiled floor. "_Er — yeah. I'm in here. Do you need the loo?_"

"_No,_" my roommate answered. "_I was wondering if we could talk. I'll...I'll come back when you're…decent._"

For some reason, this made me laugh. "_It's fine,_" I told him. "_Come in._"

"_Are you sure? I don't mind waiting._"

"_Trust me, there's nothing to see._ _I used about a third of that expensive bubble bath you bought me last autumn._"

In saying this, I couldn't help but dwell on the fact that he bought me something as overtly sexual as bubble bath. Granted, there were no strings attached, nothing that would suggest it was a sexual purchase. Just — I had never received anything like that from Harry or Neville. From them, it would have been inappropriate.

But, as I started to realize over the course of the season, mine and my roommate's friendship was different from most.

It took about ten more seconds for that door to open, with Nott standing there, one hand over his eyes and the other clasped over the doorknob. I noticed his knuckles turned white from how hard he was gripping that metallic handle. He then turned his back to the tub and closed the door, leaving us in the loo, alone, with the added tension of what we were about to discuss.

"_So…you wanted to talk?_"

"_Erm…yeah,_" he choked out, after moment of silence, careful not to catch sight of me in the mirror, as he dropped his hand to his side; slowly and with caution. "_I — I realize things got a little heated last night…but I thought you should know…nothing happened beyond that._"

"_Beyond what?_" I asked, with mingled eagerness and embarrassment, mostly over the fact that I had no recollection, whereas he seemed to have some.

Nott cleared his throat. "_I can't remember it too well, but we did kiss a little bit at the fountain…and…well…some other things._"

I blushed. "_Do you…Do you remember those other things…?_"

His back was turned to me, though I could tell there was colour on his cheeks, as it carried through all around his neck. "_In flashes, yeah. I remember falling into the fountain and realizing you'd hit your head on the stone. After that, someone heard us and came outside to see what all the commotion was about…_"

I thought about Draco, about waking up in his room, and about the strange looks he'd been giving me throughout the day, as though he knew something I didn't.

"_…I tried to help you up, but I think I might have hit my head as well. It's all a blur from there,_" Nott continued, speaking with remorse as opposed to the triumph that usually came with the retelling of a drunken anecdote. "_Point is, I'm sorry things got so carried away, and I hope we can move past this._"

"_Is that what you want?_" I started to ask, without knowing where the question had come from. "_…to move past this?_"

Nott shifted a little, as though there was something he couldn't tell me. It stretched on for a long time, his silence. Admittedly, the question was filled to the brim with tension and baggage, and could not have been answered with a simple _yes_ or _no_ —but it had to be answered regardless.

…twenty seconds, thirty seconds, forty, with no response.

I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to dunk my head in the bubbles and vanish. It was bad enough being the only one with no memory of the previous night, but to be left hanging after such an open-ended question was borderline torturous.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thoughts?**

**Cheers**

**xo.**

**(P.S. Some of you might be wondering how Hermione was able to remember the fountain incident with enough detail to write a chapter about it in her memoir, and that question will be answered in the next chapter). **


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: Chapter Twenty-Six!**

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><p><strong><em>One Month Later <em>**

It was an hour to midnight, and the sound of the front door closing echoed through the corridors, coaxing me out of my dreams. I slowly leaned forward, into upright position, aware that my roommate had been called into work — again. It seemed his duties as Healer had doubled in the last few weeks. Part of me wondered if it was a coincidence, or the product of what happened in the loo one month ago.

Merlin knew that conversation had not gone the way I had hoped.

I breathed in, thinking back to it, back to the moment Nott told me he would prefer we remain _just friends._

In twenty-five years, nothing had ever made me feel worse than those words from his mouth.

"_You're beautiful,_" he had told me, keeping his back turned. "_…and smart and an amazing witch…but I can't risk losing you…I can't risk a rift in what we've shared for the past two years. I…I hope you understand…_"

In keeping with his decision, I forced a smile and told him I agreed, fighting back a sudden rush of tears, waiting until he left the loo before allowing the moisture to cascade down my cheeks and into the bath. I wasn't in love with him — but there was something about him, about _us _that I couldn't ignore.

It was more than chemistry. It was trust, understanding and mutual respect. It was mature, adult feelings — and I had been involved with too many men to know how rare it was to harbour those feelings for someone.

Still, there was no choice in the matter. Nott made his decision, and I was forced to accept it.

I was thankful that our work schedules intensified. It diminished our time together, leaving only the awkward run-in between leaving for work and coming home. In one month, the most I had seen him was an accumulated ten or twelve minutes. Of course, part of me missed him and wished that conversation had never happened, but it was a relief that those feelings were off my chest.

Back in the day, I'd been unable to admit my feelings for Ron, which left our bond at a stand still for years upon years. Since then, I promised myself that I would be more forthright with my desires — and in doing so, I changed mine and Nott's friendship forever.

I wanted him.

I wanted his arms around me and his lips on mine. I wanted to come home from the Auror Office and find him in the kitchen, with a piping hot meal prepared, amid candlelight and fresh flowers.

But he didn't want those things.

It hurt, to the point that I could feel an actual ache in my chest whenever his name was so much as mentioned or when I could hear him tip toe in and out of the house. I sometimes wondered if he missed me, too. I sometimes wondered if he felt as lonely as I did in our house. But those thoughts did me no good.

I pursed my eyes closed and tried to force myself back to sleep, knowing I had an early morning ahead of me, but memories of him wouldn't cease. It was bad, so bad I lifted the covers from my body and made my way to his bedroom, knowing he wasn't there and wouldn't be back for a long, long time.

The scent of his natural musk filled my nostrils, sending me back to the night I had spent there with him, with his arm around me and his breath tickling the skin of my neck. It brought actual tears to my eyes — which made me feel ridiculous, trust me — but the embarrassment that came with being so emotional was soon eclipsed when I noticed something.

His dresser was open.

The top drawer. The same drawer I had seen him rifling through the night we spoke in the loo. I convinced myself there was nothing worthwhile in there. Perhaps some more marijuana or at best, some kinky magazines. But the longer I stood there, the deeper my curiosity ran.

I glanced back to make sure he wasn't hovering over my shoulder, before tip toeing to his dresser and peering inside; startled as I noticed a small rectangular box. It was wrapped in white with a silver ribbon, and judging by the matching heart-shaped card, it appeared to be a Valentine's Day gift.

In that moment, my heart sank.

Nott had a girlfriend.

All this time, and he had a girlfriend.

Suddenly, his treatment towards me made more sense. As roommates, there were times we had disagreed and butted heads, but we squashed those arguments within minutes, knowing we were mature enough to work through petty fights. I expected the same for this rift. I waited for him to approach me, as I had tried several times, but he never did. I wondered why that could have been, what could possibly have driven him into giving me the silent treatment for an entire month — but the answer had been in front of me the whole time.

He was with someone else. He couldn't possibly had been interested in me. He found another, more attractive, smarter witch with whom he could have romantic candlelit dinners.

I breathed out, disappointed and humiliated, and just about ready to move out, until noticing the name scrawled on the heart-shaped card.

_To Hermione,_

_Happy Valentine's Day. _

_With love, _

_Theo _

_x_

My face screwed. "_What in the actual fuck…?_"

I glanced back again, feeling a sudden chill crawl the length of my spine, before doing as my best friends Ron and Harry would have done, and tearing that damned gift open. I tossed the wrapping aside, greeted with a velvet box, bringing colour to my cheeks and an even worse mix of emotions to my chest. Of all the things I had expected, a Valentine's Day gift from my estranged roommate was not one of them.

But that wasn't the shocking bit.

I ignored the remorseful feeling in my gut, and opened the box, dazzled by the item inside. It was a necklace: a thin, silver necklace with a delicate snowflake pendant, representing my favourite season and the season we happened to meet.

"_Shit…_" I mumbled, lifting the necklace from the box and marvelling at its simple, yet beautiful design. Knowing Nott, he had chosen it himself with careful attention to every detail, including the symbolism.

But this only baffled me further.

Why, if he desired to be nothing more than friends, did he purchase me something as gorgeous as that necklace, only to watch as Valentine's Day passed on by, with no mention of a gift or anything of the like.

It was February 16th.

His moment to gift me the necklace was long gone.

Perhaps…Perhaps he had decided not to, that it would confuse me into thinking he returned my feelings. I mean, he _had _to return them. I _knew _he felt the same. I felt it in his energy, in the way his eyes danced across me head to toe during those rare moments we passed one another in the corridor.

Something was holding him back.

Something deep and unyielding, and I made it my mission to discover the source to his reluctance — _before _fixing the box and the wrapping with some quick magic, and taking the necklace with me as I sauntered back to my bedroom. Just because he didn't have the bollocks to give it to me, didn't mean I wouldn't wear it — just — not around him.

**_Ron's Birthday — Whistler_**

It was a beautiful cabin, with enormous rooms and enough space to house even the largest groups of people. Ours consisted eight people: Ron, Daphne, Ginny, Harry, Astoria, Blaise, myself and Nott. To my understanding, Draco was supposed to be there but he ran into some last minute duties in Manhattan, and would be joining us later on in the week should his schedule clear up. I wasn't perturbed by this, as the last time I'd seen him, he woke me out of a drunken stupor and alluded to an event that never happened.

I didn't pass out in his bed.

I mean, I _did _but I didn't know it was his. He found me outside with Nott and took it upon himself to help me to my room, only to make a small detour to his, seeing as my clothes were there. During this time, my drunken arse passed out on his bed. Simple as that. Nothing remotely sexual or desperate.

Cough.

Anyway, he wasn't in Whistler and wouldn't be there for another couple days.

To this, I rejoiced and remained in good spirits the entire journey there, only to realize Daphne roomed me with her younger sister, as we were the only single girls in the group. Already, the holiday was off to a bad start, but I tried not to let this kink faze me. We were there to celebrate our good friend's birthday, not argue over a feud that spanned the first half of my 20s.

Granted, I hadn't spoken much to Ron in the last six years, but there was still an air of understanding between us. Most things were left unsaid. It didn't hurt that he defended my honour following the letter incident. It also didn't hurt that Daphne, his long-term girlfriend, was quickly becoming one of my best mates.

I loved that girl.

It shocked me to think she and Cuntgrass were products of the same upbringing. I saw no similarities in them; physical or otherwise. Daphne was elegant, soft-spoken and polite, with blonde hair, reminding me of a younger Narcissa Malfoy, whilst her sister was loud, abrasive and mean-spirited, with darker hair, not unlike Bellatrix.

I thought about those parallels for some time, before grudgingly making my way up the staircase, to the second floor, and into the room I was forced to share with the Madwoman's reincarnate. She was already there, with her things placed atop the bed closest to the window, leaving me with the one near the loo. Perfect. From there, we steadily ignored one another, unpacking our trunks in absolute silence.

"_Knock, knock…_"

Both of us turned to the door and found Daphne there, oblivious to the situation at hand, dressed in a white winter coat and an adorable winter hat to match.

"_Daph,_" her younger sister began, moving past me without so much as a glance. "_I can't sleep in this room._"

Daphne arched an eyebrow. "_Why not?_"

"_The energy is bad._"

"_The energy is bad?_" the older Greengrass repeated. "_There are no more rooms available, Astoria. I'm sorry._"

"_Lies. This place is enormous._ _There has to be another room._"

"_Mum and Dad rented out the other rooms to some Muggle travellers from Brazil. Trust me, I would have given all the singles their own rooms, were it possible._"

Bellatrix 2.0 frowned at this, folding her arms. "_What about Draco's room? He won't be here for another three days._"

"_Sorry, but no. Draco is rooming with Theo and Blaise, and I can't have you over there, being the only girl and all. It's inappropriate._"

I smiled to myself, pretending not to eavesdrop as I continued unpacking my things. Never in my life had I been more thankful to have no siblings. It was hassle enough having to deal with Ron and Harry as teenagers. I didn't even want to imagine what it would have been like to have a sister.

"_Hermione?_" Daphne then called out to me. "_Do you have any qualms about the room?_"

With the kindest, most natural smile I could muster, I faced the door. "_None at all. I think it's quite lovely._"

Daphne turned back to her sister with a _told you so _look. "_Sorted._"

"_Whatever…_" Astoria muttered, moving back to her side of the room, where she promptly began to paint a fresh coat of red over her manicured nails.

Judging by the first five minutes of being roomies, I could tell the tension between us would only multiply. It was simply a matter of time.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh snap haha. It's about to go downnnnn. **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: Chapter Twenty-Seven!**

* * *

><p>The next morning, everyone in our group apart from myself and Daphne went out to Blackcomb Peak to test the slopes. It appeared she was as athletically challenged as myself, which only made me like her more. Together, we walked and talked and strolled around the village, and I explained to her things like television and mobile phones — as everyone around us had either their eyes glued to a television screen at various restaurants or their fingers typing away, immersed in text conversations.<p>

It was fun, revisiting my old life as a Muggle.

"_So, tell me…_" Daphne prompted, having ordered us hot cocoa at a cafe across the entrance to the mountain. It was a quaint place with a brilliant view and very, very comfortable seating — most probably to cushion the arses of all the amateur skiers and snowboarders. "_Are you seeing anyone?_"

I giggled, having expected this question to arise from either Daphne or Ginny. It had been a long time since I engaged in girl talk — and I needed it.

"_Not at the moment,_" I told her. "_ — but there _**_is _**_someone I like._"

She clapped her hands together, suppressing her own giggles, and leaned forward. "_Who is it? Do I know him? Wait — don't tell me! Let me guess…_" Just like that, the blonde slipped into deep, deep thought, allowing her facial muscles to relax as she sifted through possibilities, until landing on one. "_Oh my gosh. Is it — Is it Blaise?_"

"_What— ?_" I blurted, taken aback. "_No, no, no. I mean, he's cute but no._"

Daphne sighed with relief. "_Thank goodness, because I think Astoria is interested in him, and she doesn't deal well with competition._"

This surprising me, seeing as Blaise was an ex-boyfriend of Daphne's. "_Hold on…didn't _**_you_**_…_"

"_I did,_" she nodded, somewhat nostalgic. "…_but it was a long time ago and we…erm…we didn't sleep together or anything…which eliminates the weirdness._"

I nodded right along with her. "_Fine by me, as long as Astoria stays away from No — erm —_" Foot in mouth. Foot in mouth.

Daphne gaped at me. "_I knew it!_" she whisper-shouted at me, as our sever dropped by with our hot cocoa and a strange, lingering smile in my direction. I ignored it and turned back to the gorgeous blonde, terrified and then amused as she rejoiced in silent glee. "_You would make the most adorable children. I can picture them now — beautiful chestnut hair from you and deep, dramatic blue eyes from him. Please, you have to let me plan your wedding. I'm very, very thorough and have excellent taste in — _"

I laughed. "_Slow down, slow down…_"

"_Am I talking too fast?_" she asked, as though this were common. "_Hold on. Let me just write a few things down and —_"

"_He's not interested in me._"

Daphne paused. "_What?_"

I leaned forward, knowing our conversation was loud enough for the entire cafe to eavesdrop. I had just about enough of random strangers knowing the details of my personal life. "_Nott wants to be friends. That's all. He told me so about two months ago._"

"_No…_" she all but pouted. "_…that can't be. I, along with everyone else, can see the way he looks at you. I've known for _**_years _**_that he's been interesting in you. He told me himself shortly before Christmas. What could possibly have changed between then and now?_"

"_Well…_" I started to say, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. "_Things got a little heated between us the night before his father's funeral._"

Daphne gaped even wider. "_You slept together?_"

"_Not quite._"

"_So then what happened?_"

I thought for a moment, debating whether or not it was wise to tell her. It's not that I didn't trust her, because I did. It's that I didn't want to make the situation any more real than it already was — and telling someone made it concrete. But keeping the details of what happened was beginning to wear me down. I had to vent.

"_We kissed…heavily…outside…in the courtyard…on a fountain…after three bottles of fire whiskey too many…_" I explained, recalling the bits and pieces I had either been told or remembered. "_…but I don't remember much after that…only that the signs he'd been giving me leading up to that moment were swept under the rug…forgotten._"

Daphne weighed the information. "_Draco was there, wasn't he?_"

I nodded. "_He was._"

"_Maybe Draco asked Nott to step aside, so he could pursue you. Merlin knows he's been pining for you since Christmas._"

"_I considered that, but Nott isn't exactly fond of the way Draco has treated me. I — I can't see him stepping aside for a man whose approach he doesn't condone._"

"_Can't argue that,_" she agreed, deep in thought. "_Maybe he's still in the process of mourning his father, and just needs some time to heal._"

"_Definitely. He needs space. I completely understand and respect that. I just — I wish he would stop acting as though nothing happened, you know?_"

Daphne flashed me a look of definite support. "_You should talk to him. I'm sure he would love to be honest, but he's always been more of an observant person. If he feels any hesitation whatsoever, he stays right where he is._"

"_I noticed._"

"_Just pull him aside when everyone is back from the mountain, and I'll distract the others._"

For a moment, I simply looked at her, overwhelmed and amazed. "_You are far too kind to be Slytherin._"

She laughed, blowing the steam from her hot cocoa before taking a sip. "_Fun fact: the Sorting Hat couldn't decide between Slytherin or Hufflepuff. It was only when I intervened, that he went with the former._"

"_That…doesn't surprise me at all,_" I decided, smiling, thinking. "_Please don't take offence to this, but how can two sisters be so drastically different?_"

Daphne returned my smile, as though she expected this. "_I take no offence. There comes a time when all my friends ask me that same question — and the answer is that Astoria isn't half as hard as she lets on. Deep down, she's as much of a softy as I am._"

"_How deep are we talking?_"

She paused. "_Pretty deep._"

Together, we chuckled at this and finished our hot cocoa, before proceeding back to the cabin, where the others would meet us in less than an hour's time for lunch; after which time Nott, Harry and Ginny would hit the slopes again, whilst Daphne, Blaise, myself and Astoria had plans to hit up the spa.

It was a beautiful day, really, and the surprises kept coming.

"_Hermione…_" Daphne started, sitting with me in the lounge, waiting until the Brazilian guests left before approaching the subject she had been thinking about for the past thirty minutes. "_I have something that might help you remember what happened the night before the funeral…_"

I faced her, setting down my tattered book, with a quizzical look. "_I'm listening…_"

From there, Daphne led me up the stairs, into her room with Ronald. It was larger than my room with Astoria and had an empty bottle of champagne sitting on one of the side tables. I flushed a little, bearing witness to something that proved the pair of them had most likely slept together the previous night.

"_Here,_" she said, handing me an empty vial. "_Cry into it._"

"_What?_"

"_There's a pensieve somewhere in the attic. Think of what you remember from the night in question, cry into that vial, and sneak up there when everyone's is asleep. It's sure to work._"

My face screwed. "_But…don't you need a clear recollection of something to use a pensieve?_"

"_Not with that vial,_" she explained, gesturing to the empty container. "_It's special. I usually reserve it for patients of amnesia at St. Mungo's, but I'm willing to make an exception here — for a friend._"

I couldn't help but smile. "_Brace yourself, because I may kiss you right now._"

Daphne giggled. "_ — and I may like it._"

To this, my smile turned into a full on fit of laughter, linking arms with her as we left the bedroom and proceeded downstairs.

**_Few Hours Later _**

For dinner, the boys cooked and the girls lounged, knocking back some white wine and chatting about the plans we had for the following day. It was turning out to be quite an enjoyable holiday, so much that I almost forgot there was something I had to do. I slumped into the sofa, beside Ginny, and joined in with hers and Astoria's discussion about a designer from Milan. Of course, I had no idea about this person but I needed cover from the looks Nott was shooting me from the kitchen.

It appeared he noticed my change in attitude, the fact that I was smiling and having a good time, instead of being mopey and depressed.

Daphne exchanged a quick look with me, sharing the same thoughts.

About ten minutes later, dinner was ready and we were ushered to the dining table. It was a long rectangular table, with Daphne and Ronald seated at the ends, whilst the rest of us sat in the middle. Harry and Ginny were across from one another, as were Blaise and Astoria, leaving myself and Nott to fill in the leftover spaces.

For the most part, our seating arrangements proved simple. It seemed Nott shared that awkward, nervous feeling I had in my stomach, and avoided looking at me at all costs. It was only when Harry cracked open another bottle of wine and refilled everyone's glasses — apart from Ginny's — that my estranged roommate met eyes with me.

It was one, maybe two seconds, but it felt like a lifetime.

I held his gaze an extra moment, aware that he had that same deep, uninhibited look about him, the one I remembered from the broom closet and the night we fell asleep on the sofa together.

But it disappeared the second Daphne stood from the table to hand out dessert. We were having a wizarding dessert that resembled apple pie, only it tasted as though it were made of sugary clouds from the brightest, most beautiful part of heaven. I failed my diet, again, and had an extra piece, aware that Astoria was snickering at me from across the table. It was no matter to me. A small part of me knew I would have been happy with a thin, model figure like hers, but I knew deep down that I was much, much happier with delicious dessert in front of me.

Following that, the group retreated to the lounge and engaged in some innocent — and not so innocent — card games. One of them, I remembered from our teenaged years, as Seamus Finnegan had once convinced me into joining him and some of the other boys after a rather enjoyable visit to Hogsmeade in Fifth Year. It was a truth or dare game, but instead of spinning a bottle to determine the next victim, there was a deck of cards that was split between the group, and one-by-one we went around in a circle, completing whatever dare or speaking whatever truth that we had in our topmost card.

Daphne went first, and flipped her card.

"_Kiss the nearest male to your left,_" she read out loud, wheeling a look around the circle, only to realize Ron was the person she had to kiss.

Blaise scoffed at this, teasingly. "_Shenanigans! I demand a redraw._"

"_Hear, hear!_" Ginny furthered.

Some others agreed, all light-hearted, but we were all silenced the moment Daphne crawled to Ron and wrapped both hands around him neck, before biting his bottom lip between her teeth and pulling him in for a passionate kiss. For a moment, he, along with the rest of us, was too shocked to do or say anything, but that moment soon passed, as he reciprocated and rubbed her sides, dragging her shirt up a little.

I watched with morbid curiosity, strangely turned on.

"_Okay, okay…_" Astoria interjected, pulling them apart. "_Let's not conceive a child in the middle of the lounge, yeah?_"

Daphne giggled, returning to her place in the circle; though not before tossing her blushing boyfriend a suggestive wink.

Next up was the person to her right, who happened to be Harry. I could tell he had never played this game before and would rather have dunked his head in a barrel of ice cold water than be forced into PDA — but Ginny insisted that he take part.

"_Er — tell the group about the time you lost your vir —_" His cheeks blanched, and he set the card down. "_No chance. I'm not doing that._"

Ginny placed her hand on his from across the circle. "_Come on. It's fine. It was a long time ago and we're all adults, right everyone?_"

"_Yeah, mate. It's really not a big deal,_" Blaise offered. "_How about we go around the circle and tell our stories?_"

"_How about we don't?_" Ron and Nott fired back, in unison, looking to one another and then at me.

I cleared my throat, suddenly overwhelmed with dryness, and drowned the tension with some more white wine. It was then, that Ginny leaned closer to her husband and whispered something in his ear, something that made his cheeks turn a deep shade of crimson, before he nodded his head and decided.

"_Okay, erm…_" Harry rubbed the back of his head, undoubtedly struggling to remember the details. "_It was…It was in sixth year. I…erm…I was in Hogsmeade with Ron and Hermione…and then I found Luna by the carriages and…we were alone…and…on the way back…one thing led to another…and…_"

"_Wait a minute —_" Astoria broke through. "_You fucked Looney Lovegood?_"

The Chosen One side-eyed her, visibly uncomfortable. "_Her name is Luna and yes, we slept together that one time._"

I immediately looked to Ginny, having no memory of this story or that Harry and Luna had anything going on — but it seemed the redhead had no qualms with the words that had come from her husband's mouth. In fact, she looked rather casual about the ordeal, as though she had known for quite some time.

"_Right,_" Daphne furthered, gesturing for the game to continue. "_Blaise, your go._"

Without the slightest trace of nervousness, the young man flipped the first card in his stack and grimaced. "_Truth card? This is bollocks. Let me draw again…_"

Daphne tossed him a scornful look. "_Blaise._"

"_Fine, fine…_" he surrendered, looking to the card he had drawn. "_Who in the room do you find the most attractive?_"

Astoria perked up at this, running a hand through her long, wavy black hair, overly confident in herself as usual. It was like watching a mating call gone wrong.

Blaise glanced up, and then straightened his collar, oozing sex appeal. "_Me._"

I couldn't help but laugh, joined by Nott, after which time we looked to one another and then away, in opposite directions.

"_There must be a mistake,_" Daphne frowned, moving towards Blaise and snatching the card from his hands, before scanning it. "_Well, I suppose naming yourself _**_is _**_a valid answer._"

His confident, sexy smile deepened, and from there, the game carried on.

In keeping with the same direction, the next person up was Ginny. She flipped her card, which turned out to be a dare, and was forced to kiss the nearest female to her right — Astoria. I noticed every man in the room, apart from Ron, leaning forward, practically drooling at what was about to happen.

Ginny moved across the circle on all fours, whilst Astoria readied herself, vamping it up for the men, only to understand the redhead's telepathic signals and meet her nose to nose, hovering for a moment, holding everyone's attention, and completing the dare with nothing but a light peck.

"_Oh, come on…_" Blaise grimaced. "_That's just cruel — cruel and unusual._"

"_I second that,_" Harry added, to which he received a surprised look from his wife, shrugging in response.

Astoria leaned on one arm and arched her back, pumping her chest out just enough to catch Blaise's attention. "_Just wait till it's my turn._"

Thankfully, it wouldn't be her turn for another minute or so, seeing as Nott was the next person to draw a card. For some reason, I turned away from him, pretending to be fascinated by one of the paintings on the far wall, doing my absolute best not pay the slightest bit of attention to what was written on his card.

"_Sing a song by the band or solo artist of your choosing,_" he read, receiving a mix of positive and neutral reactions from the others.

Blaise was pleased, as he tried tooth and nail to convince his best mate to get up on the stage that night at the pub and sing as we had done — but Nott was insistent on the fact that he had a terrible voice and wouldn't want to torture the audience for no reason.

This time, there was no option. The dare was written, plain and clear.

"_What are you going to sing?_" Ginny asked him.

Nott mumbled something in response, but his voice was too faint for me to hear and I couldn't read his lips, seeing as my head was still turned. It was about twelve seconds after this, when I heard a guitar strumming in the background, playing a familiar, warm tune that I recognized from prefect duties in sixth year.

His eyes closed.

_Good times for a change_

_See, the luck I've had _

_Can make a good man _

_Turn bad_

It was after the first verse, that I looked to him, noticing everyone else had fallen silent for the first time since the game started. In his hands, he held an acoustic guitar, having borrowed the instrument from Blaise, as the music enthusiast never went anywhere without it.

_So please, please, please _

_Let me, let me, let me_

_Let me get what I want_

_This time…_

I knew, without a second of thought, that this was a _Smiths_ song. It made perfect sense, seeing as _Morrissey_ was his favourite musician and _The Smiths_, his favourite band. Even the song choice made sense, as it was short in comparison to the normal ones; perfect for someone with stage fright.

But maybe it wasn't the length that caused him to choose this particular song.

Maybe, just maybe it was something else.

**_Five Minutes Later _**

Following Nott's dare, the group decided on a short loo break, during which time both Ginny and Daphne cornered me in the corridor and demanded to know the significance of the song my roommate had performed. I laughed, literally trapped, with my back pressed against the wall, amused but also a little scared.

"_Come on…_" Ginny reasoned, giving me a knowing look. "_He sang that song with so much heart. There's no chance in hell he wasn't directing it at you._"

Daphne nodded in agreement, though less forward. "_If his eyes weren't closed, I'm sure he would have had them on you._"

I held my hands up in surrender. "_Fine, fine…I may have introduced him to that song when we were patrol partners, but it's been years since then. I doubt he even remembers._"

Both girls shared a look, in total disagreement with the latter end of my statement, before we moved back to the sofa and continued the game.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I wonder what'll happen next! **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: Chapter Twenty-Eight!**

* * *

><p>I fell into the same place I'd been sitting before, after which Daphne refilled all our glasses with more wine — apart from Ginny's — and made motion for the game to continue. It was Astoria's turn, much to everyone's chagrin, but mostly mine. She turned her card, reading it silently before a smile tugged at her glossed lips.<p>

"_Perform the sexual act of your choosing on the person to your left._"

For a moment, the pieces didn't fall into place and I merely sat there, half annoyed and half drunk, until Ginny cleared her throat, as if to catch my attention. Around then, I glanced up and noticed who exactly was seated to Astoria's left. Bellatrix 2.0 eyed him with average interest, as she was currently pining for Blaise, not Theo. It was only when she noticed the commotion that settled within mine, Ginny's and Daphne's facial expressions that the idea of performing a sexual act on him interested her in the slightest.

She then tucked the card into her cleavage, and scanned him head to toe. "_What do you think, Theo?_"

His eyes were on the floor, and his cheeks were beet red. "_Your choice._"

"_Don't worry…_" she told him, tracing a finger along his left bicep, as though there wasn't an entire group of people there to watch. "_I'll go easy on you…_"

From there, an even deeper shade of red coloured his cheeks and neck, as Astoria linked their arms and led him away from the circle, into one of the rooms. I swear I could feel the panic radiate from him, alerting me of the fact that he didn't want to do anything with her — but the pair of them disappeared behind that door before the rest of us had even a second to digest what had happened.

Daphne shot a pointed look at me, torn between anger towards her younger sister and concern over what we had discussed. I forced a smile and drank from my wine, knowing there was nothing I could do and even if there was, Nott wasn't mine. If he wanted to get off with Astoria, that was his business.

Never before had the lines between us been more evident.

It took about ten minutes for them to return, during which time I noticed their hair and clothes looked tousled and disheveled. Astoria's top was no longer tucked into her skirt and the spirals in her hair looked as though someone had combed through them from roots to ends. Nott was no different. His hair was loose and fell over his eyes, reminding me of the way he looked in the dungeons.

I had some more wine, and then some more after that, ignoring the gnawing feeling in my chest.

"_Guess it's my turn —_" Ron interjected, bringing the attention to him, as he turned his card. "_Take off an article of clothing._"

Daphne and Blaise chuckled, whilst Ginny and Astoria gagged, leaving me, Harry and Nott to remain perfectly silent, deciding between both reactions. I had already seen him naked, but the idea of seeing any part of him unclothed after what we had been through was beyond awkward.

Ron tossed the card aside and pulled the shirt from over his head, revealing a torso that was slightly more toned than I remembered. He was pale and had freckles all over his back and front, but he looked good — in great shape. To this, I exchanged an amused look with Harry before realizing it was my turn.

Everyone, including Astoria, had their eyes on me.

"_Right — erm —_" I set down the wine I'd been guzzling since the game began, and turned the first card on my stack. It wasn't the truth card for which I had hoped. It was a dare card, one that instructed me to do something so scandalous, I could feel heat begin to build around my face and neck — just from reading it.

Ginny looked at me, motioning for me to continue. "_Well, what does it say?_"

I blinked, rather hard, before speaking so much as a word. "_For a minimum of five minutes, massage the person you know least and finish with heavy petting; without leaving the circle._"

There was a collective raise in both eyebrows and temperature amongst the group. I had limited options, as most of them were good friends of mine, whom I knew like the back of my hand. I glanced up, noticing Daphne, Ginny, Harry and Ron all staring at me with quizzical looks, uncertain as to where I would take this. I had two options. Blaise or Astoria — which meant, either way, there would be added tension to the unspoken feud between myself and the younger Greengrass sister.

I set the card aside, glancing between them for a long time, before moving towards Blaise — as there was no chance in hell I would willingly touch the other option. I rose from my place in the circle and made my way to where Blaise sat, knowing all eyes were on me.

From there, he leaned forward, making room for me as I fell behind him, on both knees. Neither of us said anything. It was dead silent in the lounge. It took several moments for me to actually look him in the eyes, during which time I noticed the mingled surprise and awareness in his. Something told me he knew the thoughts were running through my mind, and the speed at which they overtook me.

In that moment, I positioned both hands about half an inch above his shoulders, hovering there for three, maybe four seconds, until bringing them down, giving him a slow massage. In the background, there was a song playing. It was an indie rock track that poured in through the window, from one of the surrounding cabins in the village.

First, there was the smooth, titillating guitar riff, followed by the hard, atmospheric bass, topped with Alex Turner's vocals.

_You got the lights on in the afternoon_

_And the nights are drawn out long_

_And you're kissing to cut through the gloom_

_With a cough drop coloured tongue_

_And you were sitting in the corner with the coats all piled high_

_And I thought you might be mine_

_In a small world on an exceptionally rainy Tuesday night_

_In the right place and time_

I rubbed my hands along Blaise's shoulders, feeling him tense up and then release, as my movements continued. Ginny tossed a look at Harry, the reactions of Daphne and Ron, as though waiting for me to flee in girlish fright. But I didn't. I sat where I was, behind Blaise, with my hands traveling along his neck, shoulders and arms, attuned to the places he most needed me, surprised by the adrenaline that coursed through me, as I found someone else looking directly at me with a blend of shock, nervousness and envy in his eyes.

If he had it in him to hook up with his ex whilst everyone was there, then I had all the rights in the world to do this with Blaise.

"_Damn, Hermione…_" the musician sighed, rolling his head back and then forward, so relaxed he was beginning to lose control.

I continued, keeping a careful eye on the clock propped on top of the fireplace, and measuring my assault on Blaise's tensed up muscles in thirty second increments. It was around three minutes in, that I moved from his arms, down his front, where his abdomen flexed, greeting me with muscles I didn't know existed.

Blushing a little, I leaned close and whispered something to him.

"_Ready?_"

"_I've _**_been_**_ ready,_" he whispered back, blinking his eyes open to witness my hands, as I moved them to the hem of his trousers, and then lower.

Harry and Ron faced elsewhere, refusing to look, whilst Astoria glared at me with her mouth hanging open, leaving Ginny and Daphne to exchange surprised looks.

I flicked a quick look at my roommate, noticing the sweat building on his forehead, surprisingly drawn to the voyeuristic appeal in what was happening. It carried on like this for the next minute or so, as I watched him watch me, until finally, the five minutes were up and the dare was over.

Blaise lifted both knees, eyeing me with sheer amazement, as I sauntered back to my place in the circle.

From there, the game continued.

Daphne cleared her throat, dispelling the tension in the atmosphere, and flipped her card to reveal a truth.

"_Name the person in the room you envy most,_" she read out loud, cheeks pink. "_Er — Hermione._"

I faced her, momentarily shocked, with no time to respond, as Harry quickly turned his card. "_Dare,_" he voiced, with a gradual drop in confidence. "_For a minimum of one minute, snog the person to your left._" His face screwed. "_Wait — what?_"

Daphne blanched. "_There must be a mistake…_"

"_I say go for it,_" Ginny shrugged, tossing one look at her brother who, for the most part, remained unperturbed. "_It's just a game,_" he added.

There was a long, drawn out silence, wherein Harry looked at me, begging with his eyes for me to say something to prevent the dare from happening, but I, along with Ron and Ginny, didn't see the big deal (_that, and I was a little curious but shh_). It was common knowledge that Ron and Daphne were in love and that Ginny and Harry had been obsessed with one another for almost a decade. There was no reason to feel uncomfortable. It **was** only a game.

Finally, Daphne turned to him and simply shrugged. "_Just a peck. It won't meaning anything._"

Harry swallowed hard, setting the card down. "_Just a peck,_" he repeated. "_Okay._"

"_Actually…_" Blaise broke through, eyeing the card. "_Says here you have to snog._"

He was right.

Harry scowled at him nonetheless, before turning to Daphne, giving her a look that said she could change her mind at any moment — but neither of them did.

I watched with everyone else, keeping an eye on the clock, as both Harry and Daph scooted close and pressed their mouths together — _only _their mouths. It was a bit like one of those after-school programmes, reminiscent of primary school kisses with puckered lips and nowhere to place ones hands. There was nothing remotely sexy about it — nothing like the kiss Daphne had given Ron.

But it still felt awkward to watch.

Myself, Blaise and Astoria suppressed our laughter and studied the clumsy kiss, as though it were an experiment. For a moment, it appeared both Harry and Daphne were about to pass out from sheer nervousness, but the moment was short-lived, as Ron grunted when the time was up.

The reluctant kissers broke apart and retreated to their spots without further word, blushing like school children.

Next was Blaise.

"_Come on, dare card…_" he predicted, blowing into his fist before turning the card closest to him. "_Damn it! Explain your most embarrassing sexual encounter._" With that, he frowned, thinking, thinking, thinking. "_I don't have one._"

Ginny scoffed at this. "_Everyone does. Fess up, Zabini._"

"_I don't,_" he furthered, smirking. "_Unless you count the time I walked in on Ros' rubbing one out in the back room of Three Broomsticks._"

I gaped at him. "_You're joking._"

His smirk deepened, and he thought wistfully about the said-incident. "_It was back in sixth year. I was on a date, and ended up spilling butterbeer on my trousers, so I went to the back room to use the sink, as the loo was occupied…and she was there, behind the boxes, moaning with her hand between her legs like a right little fox._"

"_Rosmerta…_" Ron pouted, as though his innocence had been stolen. "_I had a chat her two weeks ago at my mum's Sunday dinner…_"

Nott was the next to comment, facing his best mate. "_Did she see you?_"

"_Nah,_" he shrugged, playing it cool.

Astoria eyed him, knowingly. "_You ran away like a scared little schoolboy — didn't you?_" she remarked.

Blaise tossed her a casual glare, but didn't deny.

Next, Ginny turned her card. "_Truth,_" she read out loud; relieved. "_Amongst those present, whom would you trade bodies with for a day, and why._" Without a moment of thought, she answered. "_Harry, because I want to know what it's like to have a wee standing up, and I'm curious about the scar._"

Her husband arched an eyebrow. "_Well, then._"

"_Another truth,_" Nott voiced, having turned his card. "_Er — Have you ever had sex in an open, public place. If so, where and with whom?_"

I knocked back some more of that white wine, aware that Daphne, Ginny and Ron shot simultaneous looks at me.

The young man cleared his throat, and set down the card. "_Can't say I have._"

"_Bollocks,_" Astoria scoffed, scanning her nails. "_What about that time in Dubai? I seem to recall something between us in one of the nightclub at that famous hotel,_" she added, eyeing him. "_Oh, Theo, don't tell me you've forgotten all about our time together…_"

"_Actually,_" Blaise interjected. "_The card specifies sex, and from what I recall about the Dubai nightclub is that you waited until Theo was drunk enough before falling on his lap and coming onto him, knowing he was two seconds away from passing out. No sex._"

"_How would you know?_" she fired back. "_Weren't you too busy slipping something into one of those Lebanese witches' drinks?_"

Blaise tossed her a bewildered look. "_I would never —_"

"_Now, now…_" Daphne cut in, staring between the three of them and then at me, too panicked to remain silent. "_This game is supposed to be lighthearted and fun._"

"_Maybe we should do something else,_" Ginny suggested. "_Walk around the village a bit. Check out the nightlife._"

Harry nodded, rather enthusiastically. "_That sounds like a great idea._"

**_Few Hours Later _**

I left the group earlier than planned and walked back to the cabin, where the rooms were deserted, as there was no one home. It was the opportunity for which I'd been waiting; vial in the palm of my hand. I recalled everything Daphne had told me and moved upstairs, to the attic. It was crowded with older furniture and boxes, labeled with a mix of Muggle and wizarding terms. I figured no one was allowed up there, apart from Daphne's parents, as most Muggles renting a room would be completely and utterly confused at tags like 'extra cauldrons' and the like.

Nonetheless, there was something I had to do, so I refocused and traveled from one area of the attic to the next, until finding a familiar bowl that looked similar to the one in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts. I had never seen or used a pensieve in my adult years, as there had never been a reason to do so. But the discomfort inside didn't settle, as I thought distantly about what had transpired at that fountain. I had always prided myself on having a good memory, even drunk, which made the situation all the more frustrating.

It was clear, what had to be done, but there was one problem.

I had no tears to shed.

I glanced at the vial, as though staring at it would reduce me to an emotional state, but nothing happened. There was another way to extract memories, but of course, crying was the easiest and surprisingly, the least painful.

In the back of my mind, I had something of a mental block that prevented me from turning into an overly emotional wreck over men. I hated being _that _girl, the one whose heart was always broken, the one who would either settle or end up single, as no man would ever love her the way she wanted.

Truth be told, being single wasn't the problem.

To me, the problem was refusing to acknowledge something real, something most people spend their entire lives searching for — and that's what Nott was doing. He refused to acknowledge what happened between us, which was a massive problem.

I thought about that, long and hard, able to extract a couple tears from both eyes — after which I emptied the vial into the pensieve and immersed myself in the smoky reality of what had transpired the night before his father's funeral.

It was clear.

His voice. His touch. His reaction to me and my body. Those movements, the heat coming from him. There was nothing platonic about what happened. It wasn't lust. I could see and hear that without a second of thought. For about twenty minutes, I watched the scene unfold with hushed breathing and a growing knot in my stomach — struggling to follow along as one thing led to another.

It seemed things were a little more heated than he let on. I noticed the blush on his cheeks and the slow burn between our bodies, until finally our movements came to a crashing halt, as we fell into the fountain. Just like that, the moment was over — followed by another, as someone came rushing outside dressing in black trousers, with his shirt unbuttoned from top to bottom, as though he'd been in the middle of changing.

"_What happened?_" Draco demanded, slinging an arm under me. "_Is she hurt?_"

Nott stumbled out of the fountain. "_Hold on. Let me get my kit. I'll — I'll check._"

His friend eyed him, first with bewilderment and then with panic. "_Wait, your nose. It's bleeding._"

"_Oh, right,_" Nott rubbed his upper lip with the back of his hand, laying eyes on the red colouring. "_Must be — Must be from the fall._"

Something about the manner in which Draco looked at him, said otherwise. "_When was your last appointment?_"

"_It doesn't matter. I don't have —_"

"_Theo,_" he interjected, repositioning me over his shoulder as I started to slip. "_You can't avoid this forever._"

Nott glanced down, as more streams of crimson leaked from not one, but from both his nostrils. He quickly wiped the blood away. "_I'm fine._"

"_Does she know?_" Draco asked.

"_I…no…she doesn't,_" he confessed. "_I need time. I just need…some more time._"

With that, the memory faded, as it was clear I was losing consciousness. The trees, the fountain, the arms that held me in place, everything faded. I sucked in a sharp breath, lifting my head from the pensieve with my hair drenched and the snowflake pendant cold against my skin.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thoughts? **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Chapter Twenty-Nine!**

* * *

><p>The next few days were a blur.<p>

I remember shopping with Daphne and Blaise, and convincing myself that time on the mountain would be a good idea. I needed distractions. I needed something fool proof, and there was nothing quite like falling on ones arse — repeatedly — amid an abundance of experienced skiers and snowboarders. Thinking back on it, going on the lower slopes would probably have been a better idea — but I wasn't in the right frame of mind to be deciding such things.

I traveled to the highest point with Harry, Ginny, and Ron, and watched as all four of them soared down the mountain with natural ease. I, on the other hand, tumbled my way down, stopped only through magic, once I realized I was five bumps away from slamming face first into the largest tree on the mountain.

From there, one of the patrol staff found me on his snowmobile, clad in orange top to bottom with black goggles to protect from the sun. It was surprisingly refreshing being around Muggles, as the last time I'd visited my parents was months ago. Part of me missed the simplicity that came with a magic-free existence. But the moment I started to feel nostalgic, I remembered all the ways magic had helped me, and all the friendships I had formed through Hogwarts and the Ministry.

If I hadn't received that acceptance letter from the late Albus Dumbledore, I would never made friends with these people; the only people to ever have accepted me for me.

That in mind, I secured myself behind the Matt the Patrol Dude and raced with him down the slope, passing by my friends along the way.

"_You sure you don't need to see medical?_" he asked me, offering his hand to help me from the snowmobile, as we arrived at the bottom.

It was difficult refusing Matty Blue Eyes, but I had no choice. I was quite sure he, along with the medical staff, wouldn't understand me if I told them I used magic to break my fall. That, and I would've had my Auror License suspended for breaching the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy.

"_I'll be fine, but thank you for the lift._"

To this, he studied me an extra couple seconds, unconvinced but unwilling to press me further. "_Can I at least walk you back to your cabin? It does't feel right leaving you to carry on alone, after that fall._"

I raised my eyebrows, surprised but not entirely turned off. "_You know what? Sure. Some company would actually be nice._"

It was around that time that he took off his knitted cap (or _toque_ as the Canadians called them) and revealed to me a younger face than the one I had imagined. He looked about eighteen, and reminded me of a young, blonde version of Charlie. It was on rare occasion that I saw the older Weasley but when I did, I ogled him _hard_. Matty Blue Eyes was no different.

"_So…_" he started, as we fell into step together. "_You're here on vacation?_"

I nodded, taking off my ski gloves and tucking them in my pocket. "_For someone's birthday._"

"_Boyfriend?_"

"_No,_" I smiled, knowing this approach all too well. "_He's an ex-boyfriend._"

"_Oh, that must be awkward._"

I tilted my head a little. "_Not as awkward as you'd think. It doesn't hurt that we're here with a group of our closest friends._"

"_Ah_." Matty Blue Eyes nodded along, as though he had been through something similar — hard to believe from someone who had mostly likely lost his virginity the night before. "_Well, if you're looking for a cool place to hang out, there's this spot in the Upper Village that plays great music._"

I faced him, still walking. "_Yeah?_"

"_It's my favourite place in the entire village,_" he explained, enthused like a child on Christmas morning. "_Maybe, if you don't have anything else planned, you and your friends could swing by tonight. There's an open mic, and my band is playing._"

"_Uh oh…_"

Matt smiled at me, catching on. "_Do I sense an embarrassing story?_"

"_Not at all,_" I lied, feeling lighthearted. "_But I may take you up on that offer._"

"_Awesome,_" he voiced, smiling deeper as we approached the cabin. "_Is this you?_"

I nodded, reluctant to end the conversation, though prepared for the warm bath that awaited me behind those doors. "_Thanks for walking me back. See you tonight?_"

"_I'll be the guy embarrassing himself on stage,_" he grinned. "_Nice meeting you._"

"_Nice meeting you, too._"

With that, I turned to the door and fumbled with the keys, watching as Matty Blue Eyes' shadow grew smaller and smaller, as he walked back to the main village. In that last moment, the correct key fit through the hole and I unlocked the door, one, maybe two seconds away from stepping inside.

"_Wait! Hold on a minute,_" he called out, jogging towards me, breathing heavily as he reached the door. "_I…I didn't catch your name…_"

**_Later That Night_**

It was interesting sharing a room with Astoria the past couple days — and despite the fact that we stayed out of one another's paths, for the most part, there were still those awkward run-ins whilst we dressed for group outings. That night, I managed to convince Daphne we should hit up the bar Matty Blue Eyes told me about. She was reluctant to give up her thorough, heavily detailed schedule, but the promise of an open mic left her giddy with excitement.

Resigned to whatever would happen that night, I slipped into an appropriate dress, midnight blue with a leather jacket, and noticed Astoria eyeing me from across the room — an obvious snicker tugging at the ends of her lips. It was no matter to me, seeing as I wouldn't have to deal with her once we arrived.

I proceeded downstairs and within minutes, our group left the enormous cabin and we made our way to the Upper Village. It was a pleasant night, chilly but bearable, with couples linking arms and singles searching for company. I, on the other hand, remained alone, as I wished, and led the group past the shops and into the bar Matt had specified earlier in the day.

It was nice and warm inside, and reminded me of the Gryffindor Common Room — with loads of red and orange — only dimmer and with more of an adult appeal. I watched as Ron and the other men proceeded ahead to order us a round of drinks, and wheeled a look around until my eyes landed squarely on Matt. He was on the stage, preparing his microphone and chatting with some locals about a new band or something.

Around three seconds later, he found me and waved, motioning for me to meet him up there. I broke into a nervous laugh and shook my head, convinced once he gave me a pout that would even have swayed someone as hard as Minerva McGonagall. With that, I made my way to the stage and took hold of his hand as he held it out for me, pulling me up.

"_I didn't think you would come,_" he confessed. " — _but I'm glad you're here. My band is about to start._"

"_Your band?_" I repeated, tossing a look at the other blokes around him. The lot of them were dressed in black and white with purposefully messy hair and fitted jeans that hugged them in all the right places.

Matt smiled. "_Grab your friends and sit in the front. I have a surprise for you._"

"_Wait, you're not going to —_"

"_I won't call you up,_" he interjected, still smiling. "_We'll save that performance for later on in the night, once we get a few Molsons in you._"

"_I'll pretend like I know what that means…_"

He laughed. "_God, you remind me so much of this girl I used to know._"

"_Ex?_"

"_How'd you guess?_"

"_I've heard the line before._"

He laughed some more, blushing now. "_It's true though! Don't worry, she was cool — you know, before she went nuts and keyed my car._"

"_Oh dear…_" I remarked, suppressing the giggles. "_She sounds downright lovely._"

"_Well, I don't know about that, but I do know the longer I talk, the more of an idiot I make myself sound like,_" he voiced, sounding a little nervous. "_I have this weird condition called foot in mouth syndrome. Do you know about it?_"

I nodded with my eyes closed, recalling the sheer number of times I wished I could have lodged a foot in my mouth. "_All too well._"

"_We'll swap stories once my set is over,_" he winked, exchanging a quick look with his bandmates to see if they were ready. "_All right, we're about to start. Thanks for coming, really._"

"_No problem,_" I winked back, smiling as I proceeded off the stage and towards the designated seating area, where both Daphne and Ginny eyed me, as if to demand a lengthy explanation regarding this young man and how I knew him.

But there was no time to explain, as the show was about to start.

Matt, as it turned out, supported his band with rhythm guitar and lead vocals. If I were a teenager, I would probably have jumped his bones from the mere sight of him on stage with the mic between his hands like that, but as an older woman, I sat where I was, settling for a small wave as he looked in my direction.

"_I'd like to dedicate this first song to a new friend of mine in the audience…_" he said, inspiring envious looks from a group of college girls not too far from us. "_Please, everyone, put your hands together and give it up for Harmony!_" With that, he gestured to me, prompting an enormous round of applause and even some wolf whistlers.

Ginny leaned closer to me. "_Harmony?_" she mouthed.

I shrugged, holding back the laughter that tickled my throat.

If I had to describe Matt's band, I'd say they were a blend between _Kings of Leon _and _The Black Keys. _For someone so young, he sure had a mature sound; both vocally and lyrically.

**_One Hour Later _**

"_And here I thought I was the only blonde in your life._"

I turned, having nursed the same glass of whiskey for almost an hour, and noticed Draco as he slipped into the stool beside mine. He arrived earlier in that same day, leaving me no time to talk to him — not that I was keen on doing so.

More than anything, I held an enormous amount of anger towards him, anger that seemed to fade little by little as I noticed the look he was giving me.

"_Shouldn't you congratulate your friend on his successful set?_" he asked, gesturing to Matt from across the bar.

I smiled into my glass, knocking back more liquid courage, before observing the sight in front of us. "_Astoria is congratulating him for the both of us._"

Draco tossed me a knowing look. "_Now I _**_know _**_that's not why you're upset._"

"_Upset?_" I repeated. "_I'm not upset. I may be a little drunk, but not upset._"

"_Please. You've been nursing that same drink for an hour. Even a lightweight like you couldn't get drunk from that._"

I rolled my eyes at him. "_Your point?_"

"_Something is clearly bothering you,_" he voiced. "_ — and I know we haven't been on the best of terms since Christmas, but I want you to know that I do care about you and I want to see you smile a little._"

"_You want to see me smile?_" I asked, sounding a little more aggravated than I had intended, whilst setting down my drink, finally having finished the damned thing. "_Then be the good person you think you are, and tell me what's wrong with him._"

Draco eyed me, neither surprised nor angry. It was more resolute; a look that told me he had expected this conversation sooner or later. He may have been a right old prick since arriving at Ginny and Harry's with Katherine on his arms, but at least he knew better than to patronize me.

"_What do you want to know?_" he asked, knocking back his own drink.

I looked straight ahead, aware that our friends were somewhere near, and amongst them was the man whose words had been ingrained within me since I heard them in that pensieve. "_Is it life threatening?_"

"_Maybe you should talk to —_"

"_Is it life threatening?_" I asked again, facing him.

Draco swallowed hard, immersed in thought, in what he could possibly tell me to satiate the nerves that had been building in my chest for the past forty-eight hours. "_I — I'm not sure about the details or what it's called, technically, but I do know it's common amongst pureblood males and that his father battled with it for years._" It was around then, that he paused, forcing his eyes shut. "_From what I remember, it's a degenerative disease, one that leaves the victim weak and without magic…and in some cases, it can lead to death._"

I breathed in, attempting to block those last words from entering the sandstorm that engulfed my thoughts — but the more I tried, the harder it became. I sat there, with him, with the one man I promised myself I would never trust again, knowing, deep down, he was the only one who would tell me the truth.

"_How could I not have known?_" were the first words to come my mouth, as I sunk down, into the stool, hiding my face as fresh tears streamed from my eyes down to my chin, seeping into the fabric of my dress. "_In — In the dungeons he was — he told me he was using medical marijuana but — but I thought he was — I thought he was _**_joking_**_. I should have known right then. I should have known to ask. How could I not have known? How — How could I?_"

Draco scooted closer to me and placed his hand between my shoulder blades, rubbing me there as I tilted my head down. "_You didn't know, because he didn't want you to know,_" the young man told me; neither comforting nor kind, just real. "_— and he didn't want you to know because he thought he was protecting you._"

"_But why would he want to protect _**_me_**_?_" I choked out. "_I'm not the one who's ill._"

"_Because he's in love with you,_" Draco answered, without a moment of hesitation. "_ — and he knows you're in love with him, too._"

I exhaled, feeling hot tears pool around my eyes as I listened to those words echo over and over and over again. Suddenly the music and the ambiance faded into the background, and all I could hear was the sound of my own heart — pumping hard and without control as the world began to close in on me.

Everything slowed.

"_Hermione,_" Draco's voice broke through. "_Are you okay?_"

I turned to him, with one hand grazing the flesh of my neck and clavicle. "_It — It's not here. I — I was wearing it earlier today. I — I must have —_"

"_Wait, slow down. What are you talking about?_" he asked, keeping eye level with me. "_Breathe, Granger._"

"_The necklace,_" I managed to say, feeling my temperature rise as panic settled into my bloodstream. I wheeled several looks around the bar, over the table tops and the floors, searching for the snowflake pendent, for anything that resembled it. "_I — I must have dropped it somewhere in the cabin. I need to go back and search. I — I have to…_"

Draco swallowed, concern laced into his otherwise cool, calm eyes. "_Hold on. I'll — I'll go with you._"

"_No —_" I fired back. "_I need to do this alone._"

"_Granger —_"

**_Twenty Minutes Later _**

I rummaged through the contents of my trunk, having convinced Draco that I was capable of making it back to the cabin in one piece. It was empty save for me and a couple of the Brazilian guests. It appeared the rest of the group planned on staying out late that night, which didn't bother me in the slightest. I needed all the time I could get, in order to the find that damned necklace. If that meant turning the cabin inside out, then so be it. I was prepared to do anything.

All I needed, all I wanted, was a trace of silver, an indication that I hadn't lost the one tangible thing that bound me to him.

"_Looking for this?_" someone voiced.

I felt my cheeks grow hot, and I turned to the door, finding Astoria there with what looked like my necklace dangling from her index finger.

Had this been any other moment of any other night, I might have tackled her to the floor — but there was no part of me that had the patience to deal with her attitude. I moved to the door with my hand outstretched. "_Give that back._"

"_Relax,_" she scoffed. "_I don't want anything to do with it. I found it before we left for the bar, and figured something as hideous as this could only belong to one person._"

I swallowed down the frustration and watched the necklace fall to the floor with a soft clink, as she dropped it between us, forcing me to kneel down.

"_Take your stupid necklace,_" she furthered, observing with disdain. "_In fact, here's a bright idea. Maybe you should take —_"

"_You know,_" I interjected, keeping a cool, calm, collected tone as I pushed up from the floor with the necklace in the palm of my hand. "_It must take an exceptionally miserable person to be this much of a bitch, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week._"

She gaped at me. "_I know you didn't just call me a bitch._"

"_Pretty sure I did._"

"_Listen, _**_Hermione_**_,_" she started to say, moving closer so that we were nose to nose. "_You're lucky I didn't throw that stupid necklace into the rubbish the moment I found it. Why are you so obsessed with it anyway? You don't even wear jewelry._"

"_It was a gift,_" I voiced, pushing back the emotion that clouded my lower lash-line.

Astoria eyed me, noticing the change in my demeanour. It was the perfect chance for her to stick it to me, to end this feud once and for all and come out on top. "_I'm going to say this once,_" she told me, seething with anger and then simmering down to a slow burn. "_Nothing happened between me and your boyfriend, if that's why you're crying like a child._"

"_Matt isn't my —_"

"_I'm not talking about Matt,_" she interjected, as though the mere suggestion were ludicrous. "_I'm talking about your precious Theo. Nothing happened between us._"

"_What do you mean?_"

"_During that stupid game of truth or dare, nothing happened,_" she furthered. "_I — I took him into that room, getting nothing but half a peck, though it wasn't for lack of effort on my part. I tried, but his mind was on something else, as usual._"

"_But…_"

"_We messed our hair and clothes up before leaving, to make it seem like something happened. It was my idea…since, you know, I have a reputation to keep._"

I blinked, taken aback by the things she was telling me, but more so the reason. In the back of my mind, I had suspected something like that had happened. It was unlike Nott to hook up with someone he despised, and after living with him for two years, I knew he was more than a little bitter towards Astoria. The fact that he'd gone into that room with her at all was shocking enough.

"_Just thought I'd let you know,_" she mumbled, sounding and looking disinterested, as she scanned her nails, proceeding to her side of the room.

I followed her with one look, standing where I was. "_I appreciate the honesty._"

Astoria rolled her eyes, sighing with condescension. "_If this is the part where we join hands and break into song and dance, count me out,_" she vocalized, pausing to look at me as I hovered near the doorway. "_ — just do yourself and everyone else a favour, and find him before —_" There was a break in her voice " — _erm —_"

"_Before it's too late,_" I finished, glancing back at her in time to notice the look that crossed her facial features.

She remained silent for the next few seconds, gathering her thoughts. "_I wasn't sure you knew about his…condition._"

"_I do, but not because he told me._"

"_I'll take the blame for that,_" Astoria then said, speaking in a tone that was neither arrogant nor condescending. "_Back when — Back when we were together, I noticed he started getting these…nosebleeds,_" she said, brushing a couple fingers over the area above her lips. "_It scared me that he was sick. I was young and stupid and not at all prepared to deal with a…with a dying boyfriend…so I waited a couple weeks until his symptoms started to fade, before making up some rubbish excuse about wanting to be with Marcus Flint. It was a horrible thing to do, even for me, but I wasn't strong enough to be there for him._"

Silence swept the room, as I listened.

"_Consider yourself lucky,_" she added, sniffing a little, though doing her absolute best to hide it. "_I messed up, but that doesn't mean you have to._"

I breathed in, levelling the feelings that reverberated within my chest. "_Do you — Do you know where I can find him?_"

"_If I know Theodore Nott, he's probably outside somewhere, looking at the stars or something. He's corny like that._"

For some reason, that made me smile. "_Thank you, Astoria. I…I'm sorry for calling you a bitch._"

"_I've been called worse by bigger people,_" she voiced, nonchalant, despite the way her eyes had been glistening for the past couple minutes. "_Now get out of here._"

**_Ten Minutes Later _**

There was a chilling breeze outside, one that swept over me in a deep, penetrating motion, and left me shivering as I opened the back door to the cabin and laid eyes on the grounds. It was picturesque, with evergreen trees and snowy mountains and blankets of white over the rooftops. I absorbed the sight, the feeling, the chills that crawled up and down my spine, as a single silhouette crossed my line of vision. He was there, standing with his hands in his pockets and his head tilted up, to the sky.

It appeared as though he were searching for something up there: answers, or a sign, maybe.

I breathed in, and then out, watching as the heat that left me turned into translucent cloud-like bodies, reminding me of something.

From there, he turned, with the wind feathering through his hair and a human flush to his cheeks and neck. It went from cold to freezing in seconds, during which time we reached an unspoken understanding and moved closer and closer and closer — until I was able to bury my face into the curve of his neck. I did. I, then, released a deep, staggering breath as he embraced me, holding my quivering form tight to his chest.

"_I'm sorry,_" he whispered to me, brushing through my hair. "_ — I'm so, so sorry._"

I could hear it in his voice. I could hear the heart wrenching guilt, the remorse he felt in keeping the truth from me and the simultaneous ache that came with it. In the back of my mind, there were countless things I wished to say, to confess, to let him know, but none of those words came out.

"_Please…_" I whispered back, trembling, shaking, glancing up at him, bottom lip quivering as he tilted his head down, towards mine. "_Just…just…_"

"_I love you,_" he told me, sending vibrations from his lips to mine, as he detonated the sorrow and the longing and the ache that ricocheted between us with a single kiss — devout and warm and soft and hard and rapturous and tranquil.

I could taste saltiness on his lips, from the moisture that cascaded down his cheeks. It broke my heart that he loved me, and that I loved him back. It broke my heart that this was happening, and that there was no promise it would ever happen again. "_Don't stop,_" I begged him, breathing hard, sucking in what little oxygen I could as his hands traveled from my hair to my dress, tugging at the fabric with desperation. "_Please don't stop._"

"_I can't…_" he murmured in response, kissing me with such depth and such sublime undertaking, that it rippled through me for months, _years _afterwards. "_I won't…_"

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><p><strong>AN: Please don't hate me lol. Just know that the story isn't over. There's more. Much, much more. **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Chapter Thirty! This one's a little bit different than the others. I promise the next one will be normal lol.**

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><p>I know, I know.<p>

I started this memoir lighthearted and humourous, and I have now subjected you to nothing short of a Nicholas Sparks novel; complete with several ounces of doomed love, emotional sex and inner turmoil — topped with some classic Jeff Buckley for soundtrack. But here's the thing: I would have taken months, years, _decades _of the heart wrenching, ill-fated love than what I had before, which was emptiness. Being with Nott saved me, as much as it saved him. I know it's cliche and tired, but when you do come across that one person — be it a friend, colleague, family member or stranger — the world begins to make sense again. It's like, life becomes more than enduring and existing. It has meaning. All those small, insignificant things, become beautiful and important — so, so important.

There were days when I would wake up and breathe, and even that had meaning to it.

But before we move on to the thick of this roller coaster memoir, there's something I've been meaning to share with you, something I've had for a long, long time. It's an excerpt from my roommate's journal, the one he kept before we reconnected at the Harvest Moon Party. He gave it to me a couple days after we returned from the ski trip, and I've had it ever since, tucked into my own journal, where I fall in love with the words and the person behind them — time and time again.

**_21st June, 2001_**

_I'm not sure where to start. _

_It's a curious concept — putting quill to parchment, hoping the words on the page have some reflection of the thoughts, dreams and ultimate fears that inspired them, wondering somewhere deep down, if anyone out there will care enough to know the truth about you. It's very dramatic, isn't it? Perhaps that's the takeaway from all of this. We write, not to inform, but to remember. Then comes the question: What do I want to remember, above all else? _

_Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. _

_Maybe just one thing, or one person, or one night; one night that replays over and over and over again, like a broken record, like mum's scratched copy of Unchained Melody — the one that sits in the record player, where she left it twenty-one years ago. I think about her often, about what she would be like, had I known her a day. _

_More than anything, would she have cared for me, the way I'd always imagined? I think that's the worst part in having lost her, the fact that I have no memories to fall back on or photographs to skim. I have nothing but a name, Eleanor Black, and the constant reminder that she looked at me once, twenty-one years ago, with Healers and nurses hovering over her, as she held her son during his first few moments in this world, all the while slipping away, second-by-second. _

_I think about her often, my mother. _

_But most of all, I think about the man she left behind — my father. I think about the man he used to be, and how he transitioned into a bitter, resentful wizard. It scares me that we're related, that one day, I could end up like him; alone and without one friend to stand at my bedside, as disease takes me. _

_Because that's the root of this. _

_I'm dying. _

_Not in a proverbial, new-age-y sense. I'm actually dying. I've known since I was a teenager, since my fifteenth birthday, and even though it's been six years since then, I still can't come to terms with the fact that it's all going to disappear one day. I'll wake up and I'll be a shadow — at best, a fleeting thought in the back of someone's mind._

_I suppose that's why people journal. _

_To be immortal. _

_To give meaning to the small things and the big things and the things that make no sense at all. _

_But what about those complicated, open-ended things? What about them? Do those questions get answers? Do those memories start to fade? Does that voice, or those eyes, or that laugh that's been stuck in my head all this time? Do those things fade? What about her name? If I wrote it down, would she know this is about her? Would she remember? _

_Because I do. _

_I remember. _

_Here's to being immortal. _

_Signed,_

_Theodore Nott._

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><p><strong>AN: Thoughts? **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: Chapter Thirty-One!**

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><p><em>But remember when I moved in you<em>

_And the holy dove was moving, too_

_And every breath we drew was Hallelujah_

No one, apart from myself and my roommate, knew what happened that night. I'm sure Astoria and Draco had an idea, but the details belonged to _us_. Going into that holiday, there was tension and uncertainty and a whirlwind of miscommunication, but things changed within that one moment outside the cabin; the moment I found him and the moment he let me.

It was everything.

It was one of those surreal moments: one breath and time stands still; two breaths and the world around you begins to fade; three breaths and his touch is the closest you've ever come to believing in God.

It was like that, being with Theodore Nott.

**_Four Months Later _**

I reached that last hour at the Auror Office, the one that _ticks _and _tocks _in the back of your mind. It was like a battle between my Quill and the minute hand. I glanced at the clock every three or so seconds, hoping, praying, begging for time to pass at a rate that didn't make me clench my arse cheeks with anticipation.

But the moment that happened, was the moment there was a knock on my door.

"_Ron —_" I voiced, more than a little taken aback. "_What are you doing here?_"

He glanced at me, and then down. "_Erm — I was wondering if we could talk._"

"_Of — Of course._"

The young man entered my office and closed the door, looking rather dishevelled if I had to be honest. His hair was messier than usual and his clothes were wrinkled and untucked, as though he were a teenager all over again. But he wasn't. He was a grown man, with grown man problems, as I would soon discover.

I motioned for him to sit down, after which he proceeded to fidget with both hands; nervous about something.

"_Would you like something to drink?_" I asked, rising to pour myself some wine. It was a bottle I had leftover from the Ministry Christmas party; elvish and red, quite a unique taste. It probably wasn't wise to drink on any empty stomach, but I could tell he needed a drink — maybe three. "_There you go._"

"_Cheers,_" he thanked me, taking a rather large sip, as I found my seat. "_I — I know it's strange that I'm here but I erm — I need your help on something._"

"_My help?_"

He cleared his throat. "_It's about Daphne._"

"_Is she okay?_"

"_She's great,_" he answered quickly, realizing I had misunderstood. "_I just — I tried asking for Ginny's help, but she was finishing up the Quidditch season, and now she's pregnant and —_"

"_Ron,_" I interjected, catching his attention. "_There's no need to explain. You know my door is always open to you, and to Daphne._"

He smiled weakly at me; tired but relieved. "_Thank you, Hermione. I'm — I know we haven't talked much over the years but you're still one of my best friends. You know that, right?_"

I returned his smile. "_That means a lot._"

"_Good…good…_" he nodded, running both hands through his hair, regaining some control over the situation. "_We're both in serious relationships and…and I know my problems are minuscule in comparison to yours, but I was wondering if you could help me._"

"_Sure, what do you need?_"

"_I need you to try something on._"

"_Try something on?_" I repeated, twisting my face into a curious expression only to raise both eyebrows, as he set something on the desk. It was a tiny velvet box, with an engagement ring in it — princess cut and damn expensive. "_Merlin's tits! Ron!? You're getting engaged!? Congratulations!_"

He motioned for me to lower my tone. "_It — It's not official yet. I haven't asked. I — I was actually wondering if you could try that on and tell me if the fit is right. Daph mentioned something ages ago, about you two being the same ring size, and I know it would have been wiser to bring you to the ring shop with me and then buy one, but work has been insane and — and — yeah._"

I couldn't help but laugh at his discomfort. "_This is beyond hilarious._"

"_What — What do you mean?_" he quickly asked, watching as I lifted the ring from the box. "_Did I get the wrong one? Should I go back? Shit…shit…shit…_"

"_No, no, no — _" I assured him, suppressing the laughter. "_I'm just amazed that you, Ronald Bilius Weasley, wandered into a ring shop all on your own and managed to choose something this gorgeous!_"

It was visible, the relief that passed over him. "_Thank fuck._"

"_Bloody hell…_" I mouthed, holding the ring to the light, captivated by the glimmer and the shine. "_This must have cost a fortune._"

"_It did,_" he confirmed, sound rather pleased with himself. "_ — about three times as much as Bill's ring to Fleur._"

I smiled, distantly reminded of Ron and his siblings, and their lighthearted, playful, competitive spirits. "_Well, if you want my help, then you're going to have to tell me how you plan on proposing._"

His face screwed. "_Er — isn't there only one way? Will-you-marry-me._"

"_Ron…_" I sighed, giving him a knowing look. "_You need a plan. You can't just go in there with a ring and expect her to be blown away. I mean, she will be, I can assure you, but this is going to be one of the most pivotal moments in her life, as well as yours. It's important that you cater this moment to your relationship and everything you've shared thus far. Does any of that make sense?_"

He scratched the back of his head. "_I guess…but…what do I do?_"

"_Take her somewhere special, somewhere significant to both of you,_" I advised. "_— and as far as words go, speak from your heart. Be yourself and be honest. The rest should fall into place._" I made it sound simple, but proposing marriage to anyone was a difficult, emotionally overwhelming thing to do. "_Here — give it a go right now._"

"_Now?_" Ron asked, as though he'd been called up to do an oral presentation in the middle of class. "_Er — okay. Don't laugh._"

I dragged an invisible zipper between my lips and stood with him, meeting him at the centre of my office, where he pocketed the ring. I'll admit, it was a little surreal having him there, with me, alone, doing this, but so much time had passed since we were together that there was no tension between us — not an ounce.

"_Daphne Greengrass,_" he started, looking straight into my eyes, grown up, mature, inspiring. "_I'll be honest. I'm nervous. I'm shaking, not because I don't think this is right, but because this is finally happening. I'm standing right here, with you, and the world is right. I feel happy and so irreversibly in love with you, and at the same time, I also feel guilty, because I know I don't deserve someone as generous and as brilliant as you, Daphne, but I can't carry on a moment longer, without asking you something…_"

**_Three Hours Later _**

It was around nine o'clock that I returned from work, exhausted beyond words and comprehension, spread across the loveseat, with a novel in my hands and my head resting on his lap. I glanced up every now and then, just to look at him, at his eyes as they moved left to right, absorbed in the words that made up his favourite novel (_Great Expectations_) for the umpteenth time.

"_Tired?_" he asked me, brushing through my hair with his free hand.

I didn't respond. I opted instead to finger-mark the novel before me (_A Tale of Two Cities_) and bring his hand to my lips, grazing the skin over his pulse, consumed by the rhythm and the beat. It was something I often did, usually to remind myself he was still there, with me, where I could out and touch him, and hear his voice and in turn, fall even deeper.

For some reason, what happened with Ron was fresh in my mind. I told Theo about it the moment I came home, and he was as ecstatic as I had been, about our friends finally tying the knot, but there was a trace of emptiness in his eyes that didn't go unnoticed, no matter how bad he wanted it to.

I knew, right then, that we were thinking the same thoughts, held back by the same fears.

Just like that, he set down Charles Dickens' classic novel and looked down, at me, drowning me in the oceans he had for eyes. "_What's on your mind?_"

"_Just thinking,_" I told him, breathing in as a light breeze tickled my skin, absorbed in what possibilities remained. "_Let's go somewhere._"

"_Go somewhere?_" he repeated.

I nodded, moving upright, holding his hands in mine. "_Just for a couple nights. I — I already cleared it with your Healer and he said you're more than healthy to take a weekend. I was thinking Paris, close enough but far enough. What do you think?_"

Nott smiled. "_If you wanted me to French kiss you, all you had to do was ask._"

"_Shut up,_" I laughed, moments before he put action to those words and brushed his lips over mine, coaxing them apart with one slide of his tongue. "_You're so bad…_" I told him, smiling against his lips, running my hands through his hair as his moved along my sides, caught in my blouse.

"_I'm Slytherin,_" he reminded me, winking, as we separated to catch some air.

I breathed in and out, chest rising and falling, aware that the top few buttons on my blouse were undone. "_So, is that a yes?_"

"_Yes, to going away for a couple nights,_" he answered, placing another kiss on my lips, and then down my neck, causing my eyes to flutter shut. "_But I think I have a better idea, in terms of locale._"

"_Oh?_" I managed to ask, open-mouthed and feverish. "_Wh — Where?_"

"_It's a secret._"

From there, he traced the tip of his tongue along the column of my throat, sending vibrations through me, as our bodies lowered onto the sofa. He was on top, kissing me, whilst working the other buttons on my blouse, exposing the black bra I had on underneath. It was strapless and lace — and thin enough to wipe that smooth smile from his face.

I looked up at him. "_Tell me where we're going, and I'll let you take it off with your teeth._"

"_Granger,_" he vocalized, biting his bottom lip and running a hand through his hair, looking like a damned _Calvin Klein _advert without even trying. "_Play fair._"

"_You may be Slytherin,_" I told him, tracing a finger over his lips. " — _but I'm also Gryffindor, which means I'm used to winning._"

For a moment, he didn't saying anything, surprised and turned on, and without one ounce of protest left in him. "**_Hogwarts_**_,_" he murmured, sweeping me into another one of those delectable kisses, whilst I pulled the shirt off from over his head. " — **_we're going to Hogwarts_**_._"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thoughts?**

**Oh, and the song for the last portion of this chapter is "Bed Peace" by Jhene Aiko feat. Childish Gambino. Give it a listen! **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: Chapter Thirty-Two! Oh, and anyone who would choose Paris over Hogwarts is ****_not _****a real Harry Potter fan haha.**

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><p>I'll admit, when my boyfriend told me we were going to Hogwarts, I expected a romantic weekend in Scotland, with a small visit to our former stomping grounds, during which time I could catch up my old friend, Professor Rubeus Hagrid, and at most, have a bite at the Great Hall — but Hagrid wasn't there and the school was empty save for us and a handful of others.<p>

It was still the height of summer, which meant students were at home, spending the summer with her families. Few staff members remained, but most were on holiday, including Hagrid and his recent fiancé, Madame Olympe Maxime, from the French boarding school, Beauxbatons Academy.

Minerva McGonagall, on the other hand, welcomed us at the large double doors.

I'll be honest. I was more than a little nervous to see the former head of Gryffindor, as she had been a role model to me throughout my stay at Hogwarts and had direct influence over my ambitions following graduation. I didn't want to disappoint her with the choices I had made since Seventh Year, regarding career and personal life alike. Needless to say, my private affairs were detailed in the newspapers on a daily basis.

But the moment she found us, was the moment I realized she hadn't a single shred of disappointment within her being. If I had to guess, I'd say she approved of the fact that her two brightest students were now romantically entangled. I noticed her eyes linger on our interlaced hands, and the small smile that tugged on her lips.

From there, McGonagall led us through the double doors and into the Great Hall, where a small group of professors waved hello and asked about our adult lives. I, along with Nott, tried to keep my composure and answer the questions accordingly — but it was surreal being back there, even in the summer. On pure instinct, I fixed my attention to the ever changing ceiling and watched as simulated clouds drifted in the blue skies, reminding me of the first time I laid eyes on the bewitched ceiling of our meal and assembly room.

"_How surreal is this?_" Nott whispered to me, mirroring the awe and simultaneous nostalgia that washed over me.

I breathed in, overcome with unexpected emotion, the moment I remembered the last time I had been in the Great Hall. It was seconds after the Battle of Hogwarts, seconds after we returned from the battle grounds and found our dead. Fred, Tonks, Remus, Snape, Lavender, and more.

It occurred to me, around then, that without Lavender, I would never have grown to know Theodore Nott. I would have stayed with Ron and both our lives would have been drastically different — but one thing would have remained the same.

I faced him, as we sat with McGonagall at the staff table and had lunch, discussing politics and other adult topics, aware that his cheekbones protruded out a little further each day and that his usually fitted clothes had grown loose over time. He was thin. Neither toned, nor skeletal, but noticeably thinner than the last time I had taken a moment to look.

Just as his Healer instructed, I kept close watch on him during mealtimes and made sure he took his potions on time, despite his constant reminders that he was also a Healer, and a grown man, capable of taking his morning and evening potions, and capable eating without my hovering. But in the four months since his disease went out of remission, there were certain things about him that had changed. His weight was one of them. It seemed loss of appetite was a side effect of the potions, as well as insomnia. There were dark circles under his eyes, ones that deepened as the days went on, aging him as the first stage of the disease took control.

It hurt to see him like that, to see him change, but the second and third stages were the most dangerous, and once those stages surfaced, there was no turning back.

**_Two Hours Later _**

Somewhere along the line, we drifted to different parts of the castle. Nott had some business in the Slytherin Dungeons, leaving me to my own devices, as I traveled to the seventh floor and into the library. During my time at Hogwarts, the library had been my domain, my oasis. I missed being there, surrounded by books and friends, with a Quill in one hand and parchment in the other, whilst Madam Pince kept a watchful eye on me, waiting for me to break even the smallest, most insignificant rule.

"_Miss Granger?_"

I turned, somewhere along the Potions section of the library, expecting to find the Hogwarts librarian and instead laying eyes on the school nurse.

"_Madam Pomfrey,_" I acknowledged, startled but ecstatic all the same. "_It's been far too long!_"

She smiled, welcoming me with a light embrace. "_Please, call me Poppy._"

I returned her smile and found a seat with her at one of the tables. In the last year I spent at Hogwarts, she had really pushed for me to become a Healer, something I had strongly considered but decided against, as Kingsley Shacklebolt needed mine and my friends' help to rebuild the Auror Office.

"_Tell me,_" she started. "_How are you?_"

In most situations, a question like that would have been idled as small talk, but the look in her eyes told me she had something particular in mind. There was a reason she was close friends with Minerva McGonagall. Those ladies were nothing, if not sharp and perceptive, with finely tuned intuition and brilliant maternal instinct, despite having no children, respectively.

"_I'm okay,_" I told her, speaking the truth. "_Some days are harder than others, but I do what I can to be there for him._"

She listened. "_He's a good boy, that Theodore Nott._"

"_He is,_" I nodded. "_Practically to a fault._"

" _— and he's lucky to have you._"

I smiled, despite the emotions tugging at my chest.

"_It's true,_" she furthered, speaking with wisdom. "_In all my years as a nurse at this school, there was never a student even half as devoted as you, Miss Granger. Your friends Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley suffered many an ailment and injury, and you were always there for them, at their bedside, caring for them as though they were your kin. That's how I know Mr. Nott is in good hands._"

I recalled all those times with Harry and Ron, and sometimes Ginny. It seemed, through my adolescence, I always had at least one friend in the Hospital Wing — from either Quidditch related injuries or injuries suffered from our tangos with death term after term.

"_Just bear in mind that your own health and happiness should not be sacrificed,_" she added, distant as she paralleled my situation with another. "_Once upon a time, there was another witch at this school whose significant other fell ill. I watched her suffer right along with him, tend to him, do everything in her power to save him from his illness, only to have him torn away without a moments notice._"

"_Headmistress McGonagall,_" I voiced.

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "_She's a good friend of mine, and although she has since moved on from what happened to her husband, there are parts of her that will never be whole again, and I would hate to see that happen to you, Miss Granger._"

I allowed her words to sink in, knowing she was right, knowing my friends had the same thoughts in mind.

"_If you need anyone to talk to, know that I'm here._"

"_Thank you,_" I told her, speaking from the heart. "_Truly._"

**_Four Hours Later _**

It was about midnight, when Nott found me in the library, snuggled up to a tattered, first edition copy of _Hogwarts, A History. _I couldn't help myself. It was right there, practically calling out to me. I was mid-way through it, around the time he slipped his arms around me and kissed me first on the forehead and then on the lips. It was nice being close to him, after years of ignoring the chemistry between us.

"_Tired?_" he asked me.

I nodded, tossing a look at the time on his wristwatch. "_Where are we sleeping?_"

From there, his expression changed to something I couldn't quite pinpoint, leading me to believe there was a surprise in store. I followed him from the library, down the Grand Staircase and towards the dungeons, sparing a thought as we passed the location of that one pivotal moment in our sixth year.

But there was no time to stand around and recall those memories.

Nott led me to the end of the first corridor, to the door of the Potions Classroom — and turned to me as we made our way inside. "_There's a bedroom connected to the office,_" he explained. "_We'll be spending the night in there._"

I arched an eyebrow. "_We're spending the night in Slughorn's living quarters?_"

"_Erm, not quite,_" he furthered, avoiding my curious looks. "_Slughorn retired at the end of term._"

"_Oh,_" I voiced, surprised. "_Then who's the new Potions Master?_"

Around then, he turned to me, wielding those eyes and that whisper of a smile with enough precision to confirm the narrow inkling that been circulating within my subconscious since we arrived at Hogwarts.

"_You're looking at him,_" he uttered, bringing our hands together and kissing mine, from my wrists to my palms to the tips of my fingers, attuned with my emotions before I had the chance to process them.

I blinked.

"_Please don't be cross,_" he whispered, kissing my along the bridge of my nose. "_It came out of nowhere. I applied over a year ago, back when Slughorn announced he planned on retiring at the end of term. I did it on a whim, and didn't expect to actually get the job — but here we are. _ _I — I know I should have told you sooner._"

"_That's not the problem,_" I said to him, finding the worths as they came to me. "_Of course, I would prefer to have known sooner, but all that matters right now is your health. Do you think it's wise to teach school children, when each and every Healer you've spoken to for the past four months, has explicitly told you to refrain from placing yourself in stressful situations?_"

For some reason, he smiled. It was not the reaction I had expected, but the longer it lasted, the more clear his thoughts became. "_You're beautiful, when you're worried. Did you know that?_"

"_Theo._"

"_Sorry,_" he quickly apologized, bringing us to one of the desks in front, where we leaned against the edge. "_I know it's unwise to take this job, given my condition, but I can't the chance pass me by. I've always wanted to do this, Hermione, to teach._"

"_I know,_" were the only words to come from my lips, as my thoughts circulated the reason behind this dream of his.

His attention drifted downward, to the floor. "_The disease is hereditary. I decided a long time ago that I wouldn't have kids, and that I wouldn't let the cycle continue,_" he explained, repeating the discussion we had about a month ago. "_ — but with this job, I can still mentor these students and be there for them, the way Severus Snape was there for me. I can — I can teach, Hermione._"

I noticed the manner in which his eyes brightened, as he uttered the last bit. It was clear to me then, that this wasn't something he had taken lightly. There was a lot of thought behind it, thought that extended above and beyond our relationship. In that moment, I was happy for him. I understood his disposition.

"_Are you okay?_" he asked me, tracing circles on the small of my back with the bud of his thumb. "_I know this is a lot to handle, but there are plenty of professors here that maintain relationships and families during the school term. I'll be home every weekend and most week nights. It's doable. It's definitely doable._"

For a moment, there was silence between us, wherein I leaned against his shoulder and his hold on me tightened.

"_Theo…_" I said again, with no admonishment this time around. "_If you do this, you have to promise me you'll leave, the moment things get out of hand._"

"_You have my word,_" he vowed. "_I'll keep those students in line. I'll make sure the name Professor Nott is as feared as Professor Snape had been._"

It was around then, that I paused. "_Professor Nott,_" I repeated, looking up at him, feeling his breath tickle the skin of my lips. "_That sounds…_"

"_Stern? Serious? Strong?_"

"_Sexy,_" I finished, smiling against his lips as we kissed. "_Do you mind helping me with something, Professor?_"

The new Potions Master returned my smile and brushed his hand along the fabric of my skirt, dragging it up around my hips. "_My door is always open to you, Miss Granger._"

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><p><strong>AN: Thoughts?**

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: Chapter Thirty-Three, homies!**

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><p><strong><em>Four Months Later<em>**

I'm not going to lie. It was difficult, being apart from him for such long, seemingly endless periods of time. I struggled, and he did, as well, but we did what we could to make it work. I saw him most weekends and a couple work nights per week. For some reason, he appeared healthier to me. I knew he still paid weekly visits to his specialist Healers and that Madam Pomfrey was there for him at Hogwarts, should he require assistance, which eased most of my concern — but there was still one looming issue that came with his new role as Potions Master.

"_I bet all those tight teenaged cunts are wet for him as we speak,_" Astoria voiced, tapping the charred bits from her cigarette, as we eased into Autumn with a couple drinks at the trendy place down the road from her flat.

More than a few patrons eyed at me, as my drink went down the wrong pipe. "_Bl — Bloody hell —_" I choked, eyes wide as she chuckled at my expense. "_You don't hold back, do you?_"

"_I save the poised, polite behaviour for Daphne,_" she winked, leaning closer to me, across our table. "_Besides, don't tell me you've never had impure thoughts about an authority figure._"

"_Have you?_"

It was in this moment, that she smiled something devilish. "_Remus Lupin._"

I gaped at her. "_Really?_"

"_Really,_" she furthered, thinking distantly of our former Defense Against Dark Arts instructor. "_Especially after the whole school found out he was a werewolf. Shame what happened to him._"

"_ — and Tonks,_" I added, reminded of the casualties. "_ — but that's quite shocking. I always figured the Slytherins hated Professor Lupin._"

"_Why is that?_"

I shrugged. "_He was Gryffindor._"

"_Oh, darling, you have so much to learn,_" she voiced, taking another drag from her slim cigarette, reminding me of Audrey Hepburn, what with her silk black gloves and her hair secured in a sleek knot. "_The best sex, is the sex you're not allowed to have._"

"_Forbidden love,_" I gathered.

Astoria flashed me a knowing look. "_No one said anything about love._"

"_Then what are you talking about?_"

"_Fucking,_" she answered. "_Don't tell me you've never fucked your boyfriend._"

I blushed, and then wheeled a look around to see if anyone had overhead. "_Of course, I have. I lost my virginity to him._"

She narrowed her eyes at me. "_I'm not talking about 'making love' or having safe, controlled sex. I'm talking about the face down, arse up, sweat dripping down your back _**_fucking _**_that we all dream about._"

"_I — I suppose I had that with Oliver,_" I shrugged. "_ — and maybe Draco._"

"_Most definitely the latter,_" she inserted. "_If there's one thing that boy knows how to do, it's fuck your brains out._"

I couldn't help but laugh a little. "_Funny thing is, he practically ruined my life for a couple weeks there._"

"_He does that from time to time, makes you feel like you're on top of the world and then takes it away, because he needs to 'find himself' or whatever other nonsense he cooks up in that pale blonde head of hair._"

"_Cheers to that,_" I added, holding my glass up and taking a drink. "_So, what did he do to you?_"

"_Apart from take my virginity and then refusing to acknowledge that anything had happened between us for the past eight years? Nothing._"

I blinked hard. "_Merlin's tits…_"

"_Tell me about it,_" she agreed, lighting another cigarette. "_ — but let's not get side tracked._"

"_What do you mean?_" I asked.

Astoria eyed me knowingly, with a surprisingly good grasp on the ins and outs of my personality, despite the time we had spent loathing one another. It was a strange thing, being 'friends' with her, but I found I quite liked her brutal honesty.

"_Admit it,_" she began, smiling. "_As a teenager, you had at least one sexual fantasy about an older man._"

I opened my mouth, appalled. "_That — That's —_"

"_True?_"

"_Maybe._"

Astoria burst out laughing, startling me and then coaxing a small smile from me. It was refreshing, being able to have a civilized conversation with her; well, close to civilized.

"_Details, Granger. I need details._"

I laughed a little, too, drowning whatever friction remained between us with some good ole liquid courage.

"_Sirius Black,_" was the only name that escaped my lips.

"_Oh — _**_yes_**_,_" she nodded, recalling the runaway prisoner. "_It's a shame that he was locked up for thirteen years. Just imagine all the damage he could have done._"

"_Cheers to Sirius,_" I announced, raising my glass for the second time that night. " _— for being the hottest, most delicious convict in existence, and for unintentionally giving me my first orgasm._"

"_Hear, hear!_" Astoria furthered, clinking glasses with me.

From there, we carried our night into her flat. It was surprisingly smaller than I had expected, given the size of her family home and the size of Daphne's home. But as I soon learned, Astoria had blown away her trust fund within the first couple years of her adult life and was now forced to making an honest living like the rest of us. She worked as an editorial photographer for _Witch Weekly _magazine and by doing so, made quite the name for herself and earned enough to purchase a trendy flat in central London.

I scanned her portfolio, amazed. "_These are gorgeous._"

"_It's all lighting and angles,_" she shrugged, downplaying her talents with a glass of wine in hand. "_Besides, those were taken with my old camera._"

"_You have a new one?_"

Astoria nodded, showing me the device in question. It was similar to a DSLR — besides the fact that it wasn't digital. "_Come to think of it, you're the one who got me hooked onto photography…_"

I paused a moment, before remembering what happened with Oliver, at Harry and Ginny's wedding. "_Oh, yeah._"

"_Sorry about that,_" she offered, fidgeting with various dials on her camera. "_How about, to make up for it, we doll you up, do a small shoot right here, right now, and send the photographs to Hogwarts' newest Potions Master?_"

"_Nott already has photos of me,_" I reasoned.

Astoria flashed me another one of those knowing looks. "_I'm not talking about the wallet sized photographs you send to your nan,_" she explained, already pouting the lens at me. "_Let's do something natural and sexy, something to remind him what he's missing._"

I laughed nervously. "_Er — photographs aren't really my thing. Little camera shy._"

"_Nonsense,_" she scoffed, bringing me to one of the white backdrops she had in the middle of the open, living area and then proceeding to fix the placement of my hair and clothes, before dimming the lighting in her flat to a soft glow. "_Perfect._"

I watched, standing there with an awkward look on my face, as she proceeded to snap some quick test shots of me, before instructing me to raise my chin and tilt in various directions. It was a strange experience, but I found the longer I spent in front of the camera, the less uncomfortable things became. I angled myself to the side, giving her a profile shot with my head tilted back and my baggy cardigan falling at the shoulders.

"_Brilliant,_" she remarked, concentrated. "_Now take off the cardigan and curve one hand around the side of your neck._"

I did, tossing the item of clothing so that it was out of frame, and placing my hand where she told me, closing my eyes and then opening them, listening as she hit the button and took about seven or eight stills of me, right then.

Around a minute later, one of the straps on my camisole began to droop, but I didn't adjust it, as Astoria told me this was meant to be an intimate, natural shoot. If I had been told even a couple months ago that I would be standing in the middle of her flat, with her snapping photographs of me, I would have deemed whomever told me to be insane.

But there I was, doing just that.

"_Lift the camisole,_" she then told me. "_Just a little._"

I brushed it up with one hand, following her instruction as she coaxed me into lifting it a little higher and higher each time, until the lower and side curves of my breasts were visible.

Astoria then cleared her throat, pausing for about a second. "_If you're comfortable, take the camisole off and place one arm across your chest, and the other along your waist._"

Again, I did.

It wasn't as uncomfortable as I'd imagined, being topless with a camera taking snaps at me. There was a voice in the back of my mind, telling me Astoria hadn't changed and that she was up to her usual antics, and that I would soon find these photographs published in the tabloids, but I ignored that voice and listened to hers instead.

**_One Week Later _**

It had been nineteen days, since the last time I'd seen Theodore, and although the voices in my head told me everything was fine and that he'd be home in no time, I couldn't take it anymore. I had to see him, and if he couldn't find the time to come home, as there were mid-terms at Hogwarts, meaning he was busy preparing his NEWT level students for their exams and such, then the choice was left to me, either to stay home and wait another couple nights, or visit Hogwarts on my own terms and see him.

Through many Muggle films and break room anecdotes, I learned never to go for the surprise option, as surprises never turned out well. Instead, I alerted Theo that I planned on going there, to which he seemed beyond ecstatic. I packed my things and Floo'd to Hogsmeade, after which I was met with a thestral drawn carriage and a bouquet of flowers. It wasn't quite winter, which meant there was no snow, but Autumn leaves had begun to fall, decorating my path as the carriage took me from the wizarding village, to the school.

It was beautiful, better than I had remembered.

Almost a decade had passed since the last time I'd been there, in the middle of the school year, around the time the leaves changed colours and the wind grew a little more crisp. It made me feel whole again — young, hopeful, happy — and the moment I arrived at the large double doors, was icing on the cake. I took a careful step on solid ground and expected to find my boyfriend waiting for me, leaning against something, hands in his pockets, with that bashful, sexy smile tugging at his lips — but I was instead met with another young man.

Much younger.

"_Hermione Granger?_" he asked, about sixteen or seventeen, adorned in Ravenclaw colours, with a familiar look about him and features that told me he was of Asian descent.

I smiled, meeting him with about three feet between us as a group of students stood and pointed at me, whispering things to one another about _Harry Potter's friend _and a certain balcony incident. Brushing those memories aside, I followed my escort through the doors and into the school, where he led me to the dungeons.

"_I'm sorry if this is invasive, but are you related to Cho Chang?_" I asked.

The young man looked at me, a curious expression playing on his face. "_Why?_" he furthered, pausing mid-step and crossing his arms. "_Because all Chinese people look alike?_"

I stopped, horror-stricken. "_No, no, no! That's not what I meant at all. I'm so sorry. I had no intention of —_"

"_Relax,_" he laughed, patting me on the shoulder, despite just having met me. "_She's my aunt._"

"_Oh,_" I breathed out, relieved, too panicked to laugh with him, though trying anyway.

From there, we continued down the corridor, where the windows were no more and torches lined the stone-textured walls. Still a little dazed from the Cho Chang thing, I followed her nephew further down and ended up in front of the Potions room, where he opened the door, providing view of the man waiting on the other side.

I could see that he had gained some weight back, looking toned and healthier than he had earlier in the year. His head was bent over his desk, where he marked essays with red ink, grading them as Severus Snape had once done and leaving pointers along the margins. It was surreal seeing him in professor-mode, but I found I quite liked it.

It was when the door closed, that he glanced up, eyes bright as he found me.

"_Hermione,_" he breathed, rushing to the door and embracing me in a full hug. "_I've missed you._"

"_I've missed you, too — _" I told him, suppressing the tears that clouded my vision.

In all the chaos and emotion, neither of us realized there was still someone else in the room — a student, no less. The Ravenclaw cleared his throat, and rocked back on forth from his heels to his toes, with his hands in his pockets. "_Erm — still here, folks._"

Theo released me, a small blush on his cheeks as he remembered we had company. "_Right, sorry —_" He then turned to me and introduced us. "_Hermione, this is Shen. He's my top student, and every bit as smart as either of us had been at his age. More, now that I think about it._"

I smiled, holding my hand out and offering him a small, apologetic look for what happened earlier. "_Nice to meet you, Shen. I'm —_"

"_Hermione Jean Granger, brightest witch of her age, smartest, most accomplished student in Hogwarts history since Tom Riddle Jr., youngest female to earn the title of Senior Auror in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and founder of the famed and underrated Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare_," he recited, as though it weren't the first time. " — _known simply as S.P.E.W._" With that, he gave me a firm hand shake and solid smile. "_I'm Shen Chang, son of Jian and Ming Wei, and nephew to Cho. Pleasure to meet _**_you_**_, Miss Granger._"

I blinked, glancing from him to Nott, noticing the amusement on the latter's face. "_Erm, that's right,_" I managed to say, surprised by the confidence and firmness in his hand shake. It had taken me years to perfect my own. " — _though I'd prefer if you called me Hermione._"

Shen smiled deeper then, more so with his eyes than his lips, shooting me a quick wink. "_As you wish,_" and with that, he saluted his Potions Master farewell. "_I'll see you Friday. Cheers, Professor._"

Nott moved forward and shook his hand the way men did, with a bunch of bumps and nudges and things that made no sense to me. "_See you, mate._"

Around half a second after the door closed behind Shen, I turned to Nott with an arch to my brow and my arms folded. He simply laughed, bringing me in for another hug and topping it with a smooth kiss on my lips. I couldn't help the breath that escaped me then, as everything in the world felt right again.

"_Shen's a fan of yours,_" he explained, leading me to the door that led into his living quarters, sensing the confusion within me. "_He practically begged to escort you here._"

"_A fan?_" I repeated, unaware that I had such things. "_That's — odd._"

To this, Nott laughed, kissing me again, as though he couldn't help himself. "_Now, how about you show me some of those poses?_"

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><p><strong>AN: Thoughts? Do we like Shen? lol **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: Chapter Thirty-Four! **

**Also, as much as I appreciate people telling me how much they want Nott to survive and for Hermione to find a 'cure' for him, this story is not a love story. Yes, there are romantic elements, but it's primarily about her journey. I'll remind you that she is single, as stated in the summary, when writing this memoir. Either way, there's plenty more to come. I hope you like this chapter! I had a lot of fun writing it.**

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><p>The next morning, classes were back in session. I learned Professor Nott oversaw a small study group every Monday and Friday, with which Shen helped him, acting as a teacher's aid for the younger students. It was refreshing, knowing he was well liked amongst his students, and taken seriously all the same. I sat in with his first and second year lessons, watching with admiration as he assigned them a reasonable amount of homework, and treated them fairly and without bias — zero attention to house affiliation.<p>

It was during his fourth year lesson that things took an interesting turn. I noticed several young women whispering to one another, giggling, blushing as he walked past, causing my bottom lip to twitch with laughter as I recalled what Astoria said. Nott, however, paid them no mind — as I knew he would — and before I knew it, the lesson was over and Headmistress McGonagall requested my presence in the Defense Against Dark Arts room.

I arrived around fifteen minutes after the memo, as several students stopped me in the corridor, asking for my — wait for it — _autograph_.

v weird.

Instead of declining, as I felt inclined to, I complied with their wishes and signed various rolls of parchment, along with a book bag or two. It was all very surreal, as I had never experienced anything of the sort outside of this experience. People in the real world had a plethora of preconceived notions about me and my friends, which led me to believe I wasn't well liked, but Hogwarts as different — as it had always been.

"_Miss Granger,_" McGonagall smiled, welcoming me to the front of the classroom, which I noticed was filled with seventh year students.

I smiled at them, and moved to the front, where McGonagall stood, beside a wizard whom I didn't recognize — but did, in a strange way. He looked older than me — about fifteen or twenty years older (long, dark hair, towering height, an edge to him that simply screamed _Slytherin_) and with careful, narrow precision, he scanned me head to toe.

It was in that moment, that I remembered.

"_Rabastan Lestrange,_" he introduced, holding his hand out and shaking mine with a little more force than was necessary. "_Welcome to my classroom._"

I tried not to react too harsh, as there were students in our presence, most of whom probably weren't aware that he was a reformed Death Eater. Instead, I tossed one look at McGonagall, catching the _I'll explain later _glint in her eyes. It appeared one thing hadn't changed since I graduated from Hogwarts, and that was the coveted role as teacher of Defense Against Dark Arts. I sensed Rabastan Lestrange considered me a threat, given my affiliation in the war and the fact that I was, in my own right, an accomplished Auror.

Even so, a couple students were beginning to sense some the friction between us, whispering things to one another.

McGonagall cleared her throat. "_Miss Granger has agreed to a small question and answer session, as it's not every day we have an Auror in our presence._"

I paused a moment, momentarily forgetting that I had agreed to those terms prior to my arrival, and then nodded with a concentrated smile. "_Hello,_" I said to the eager students. "_Come next year, I'm sure I'll see many of you at the Ministry._"

Rabastan Lestrange reacted to this with an indiscernible look — one that reminded me of Lucius Malfoy.

The Headmistress stared between us, undoubtedly second guessing her decision to bring me to his classroom, before redirecting her attention to the students. "_No silly questions, and please, show our guest some respect._"

Around five minutes later, the question and answer session was in full swing. I sat at the front of the classroom, reminded of the moment I had been called up to the Sorting Hat in my first year, nervous as could be, only to land myself in the sea of best friends I had always imagined. McGonagall hovered around the students and mediated, whereas Lestrange hung back and kept quiet.

"_My name is Sinead Finnegan,_" introduced a rather polite, well-spoken young lady, standing from her desk, dressed in Ravenclaw blue, funnily enough. I soon learned she was Seamus' much younger sister. "_ — and I was wondering, as a woman, do you experience any prejudiced behaviour from your male counterparts in the Auror Department?_"

I blinked, surprised and impressed that she had touched on such an important issue, so soon. "_Nothing, of which I am aware,_" I answered honestly. "_Harry, head of the department, and Kingsley before him, maintains a safe, professional environment._"

Sinead smiled, breaking her concentration for a moment, as a wave of hope passed through her. I made a mental note to remember her name and perhaps mentor her on my own time — not if, but _when_, she applied.

Next up, some cheeky Gryffindor and Hufflepuff gentlemen asked me about inter-department dating policies, to which I assured them, there were none.

"_It's frowned upon, but there are no rules or regulations prohibiting one from doing so, so long as personal matters do not permeate into work life._"

"_Perhaps we should keep the original conversation afloat and stick to questions of relevance,_" McGonagall more than suggested, tossing those gentlemen a look that was filled with the utmost disapproval.

I couldn't help but smile at this, having missed her sternness.

"_I have a question,_" someone else asked, standing from their seat. "_Are we allowed to ask about the war?_"

"_Er —_" McGonagall looked at me, uncertain.

I shrugged. "_Sure._"

"_In that case, my name is Corvus Carrow,_" he announced: smart, sophisticated, and with a look about him that reminded of an early Tom Riddle. The Slytherin crest on this chest stood out above all else. I noticed a couple of the girls around him eyeing him, despite their best efforts not to, reminding me of another Slytherin. "_Is is true that Potter rose from the dead, during the Battle of Hogwarts?_"

"_Erm —_" I blanked, having expected something else, fighting memories of the battle in question, especially the moments in which we all thought Harry had died, defeated by his nemesis, only to come to back to us, stronger than ever. "_Well — he — erm —_"

"_I'm asking, because, as we all know, he was a horcrux and had to die, in order to defeat the Dark Lord, but none of the history texts or interviews explicitly state or even suggest that he rose from the dead,_" Corvus furthered, earning a scowl from Sinead and a couple of Gryffindor students, along with another Ravenclaw, whom I had failed to notice until then.

I opened my mouth to answer, uncertain as to how I would do this without coming across as a crazy person, until someone else answered for me.

"_It's commonly known amongst medical professionals in both the wizarding world, as well as the Muggle world, that one cannot simply be 'dead' unless all biological functions that sustain the living organism have been terminated — which, as most informed people know, means Harry Potter did not 'die' from the Killing Curse, as his last biological function, being his blood, was used to bring Tom Riddle to life in 1995, thereby tethering them and sustaining Harry's life, as he heroically took the curse, providing people like you, and me, and everyone in this room, as well as the rest of the world, with the chance to live and breathe, and remember his sacrifice another day,_" someone voiced, composed, despite the obvious passion behind his words. " _— Sorry for the interruption, Hermione._"

I turned to the source, and found Shen, seated somewhere in the back of the class, with countless young women, and even a couple young men, ogling at him; though he remained unaware, as he wiped the smirk from Carrow's face and watched as he sat back down with a noticeable scowl tugging at the Slytherin's lips.

"_Well done, Mr. Chang,_" the Headmistress offered, exchanging an impressed look with me, and probably wondering why he addressed me using my given name.

**_One Hour Later _**

It was lunchtime, and I was, in the most unattractive sense, famished beyond words or comprehension. The rest of the question and answer session had carried on with no hurdles or hitches, much to Lestrange's disappointment and my own content — but the embarrassment of being stumped by a seventeen-year-old lad still twisted and turned in my stomach, as though I were a school girl all over again and Pansy Parkinson had, as per, humiliated me in front of the entire class.

I brushed those memories aside and made my way to the Great Hall, where Nott would be waiting, willing to hear what happened and provide me with some inside knowledge regarding his students.

But the moment I proceeded down the staircase, was the moment I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned and found Sinead.

"_Oh — hello, Miss Finnegan,_" I greeted, giving her a polite smile as we proceeded down the staircase together. "_Interesting Q&A back there._"

She nodded, laughing a little. "_Corvus Carrow is an absolute nightmare._"

"_Just give him some time. I'm sure he'll grow out of it._" I advised her, thinking distantly of Draco. "_Most do._"

From there, we continued our walk to the Great Hall and started discussing various subjects and career options for Sinead. It was refreshing. I found I quite liked her, as she not only reminded me of myself, but also her brother. Despite their house division, she carried his same sense of humour, but with an unpredictable twist, as she had a certain elegance about her that he did not, making me think of Minerva McGonagall and how she had probably been during her time as a student.

Through various topics, we eventually landed on the single issue that plagued most teen minds.

"_Which one?_" I asked, catching the blush on Sinead's cheeks, as we approached the staff table, where a small group of prefects congregated with the heads of their houses to discuss duties for the week.

Sinead bit her bottom lip, thinking, but not speaking, not for another second. "_Erm — no one. I just — I realized I missed the meeting. I'm Head Girl._"

I flashed her an amused look, following her line of vision, expecting to find Shen or another well-adjusted young man, and instead landing on Corvus Carrow. For a moment, I was shocked — and then I wasn't.

"_Just give him some time,_" I added again, smiling, thinking.

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><p><strong>AN: Some more familiar names. I'll explain the Lestrange thing in a future chapter. Tell me what you think! **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N: I'm not sure about the detail in this chapter, but I'll post it anyway lol.**

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><p>Nott combed the hair from my forehead, tucking a couple strands behind my ear as we lay in bed. It was my second night at Hogwarts and I had finished sharing with him what happened during the question and answer session. I'm not sure what I expected from our conversation, but his response came as a shock.<p>

"_Corvus has the disease,_" he explained to me. "_Pureblood male, just like me._"

I blinked hard, recalling the manner in which Corvus had phrased his question to me and the manner in which Sinead reacted both times I told her to _give him time._ It occurred to me then, that there was a chance she knew about Corvus' disease or, at the very least, had an inkling.

Regardless, the young man wasn't interested in the dirty details of Harry's ultimate survival. All he wanted to know was whether it was possible to raise someone from the dead. I realized that then, when it was too late.

"_He's so young,_" I voiced, moisture in my eyes, despite barely knowing the boy.

The Potions Master buried his head into the curve of my neck, kissing me. "_Death happens,_" he said, as though it were his mantra. "_One day, we'll all die._"

I turned to him, aghast. "_But he's just a kid! How could you be so casual about it?_"

For a moment, there was silence between us, wherein my question settled in the atmosphere, transitioning the mood in the room from something small and intimate to something neither of us could ever have anticipated, leading up to our reunion.

"_What do you want me to say?_" Nott asked, sitting up, staring deep into my eyes, with growing tension in his own. "_ — that it's a shame modern Healers around the world have never been able to find a cure, or even a stabilizer?_"

"_No —_"

"_ — that despite mine and Corvus' best efforts, the disease is incurable and will, one day, murder us like a common criminal?_"

I sat up, following his lead, begging him with my eyes to stop. "_Please, just —_"

"_ — that it's our duty to be eternally distraught over the fact that we're cursed to live such pathetic, pointless lives?_" he furthered, breathing in and out, his insides twisting and turning and binding over the impact of his words. "_Fuck that. Fuck everything about that. I'm done being depressed about it, Granger. I'm —_"

"**_Theodore_**_,_" I interjected, grasping his shoulders and forcing him to look at me, as I noticed a stream of crimson pour from his left nostril, to his upper lip. "_Stop. Just stop._"

He paused, an alarmed look on his face as he brushed a couple fingers on the blood that stained his lip. "_Shit._" With that, he moved from the bed to the bathroom, and turned on the tap, scrubbing at his nose and mouth until the skin was raw.

I followed him, leaning against the door frame, watching him as he struggled, and as his hands shook. In all the years I had known him, I had never seen him like that before. I had never seen him so vulnerable or anxious or scattered. It made sense to me, that he reacted in such a manner. It was his life on the line — not mine. I had no right to push my opinions no him, expecting him to agree. I just…I wasn't used to disagreeing with him on anything, and I could he wasn't either.

It felt beyond horrible, knowing I had stirred this reaction within him, even more so knowing the only reason he had been looking healthier was because he had, for the first time in his life, accepted his fate and chose not to stress out about it.

I, on the other hand, had only stressed him out further since my arrival.

"_Was that a fight?_" he then asked, back turned, too ashamed to look at me. "_Are we fighting?_"

"_I…I think so…_"

In that moment, he glanced over his shoulder, noticing the emotion in my eyes and mirroring the same emotion in his. From there, he turned the tap off and wrapped his arms around me, holding me close to his chest. "_I don't want to fight anymore._"

"_I don't either,_" I whispered to him, breathing in and out. "_I love you._"

It hit him hard, when those words came from my lips. It was no secret that we were in love with one another, but we rarely exchanged those words, carrying the same belief in preserving the impact behind them.

I felt his muscles relax, and together, we exhaled.

"_Please forgive me,_" he murmured, kissing me along the bridge of my nose, and then lower, where my lips had been waiting for him since our mini-argument began. "_I shouldn't have lost my temper on you. I'm not an angry person. You know that, right?_"

"_It's okay to be angry,_" I told him, brushing our lips together and breathing in as he kissed me back. "_I shouldn't have pushed the subject. It was my fault, too._"

Nott separated from me, long enough that I could see he didn't agree. "_It's not your fault, Granger. You're passionate and honest and real, and the fact that you care so much is proof that you're not only a good friend, but the best damned human being I've ever met._"

I couldn't help it, then.

I launched at him, wrapping my arms and legs around him, kissing him with a mix of hope and strength and fear and love and everything I could wrangle in the seven or so seconds it took, to let him know what I wanted. His arms held me in place, securing me to him as he carried me back to the bed. I exhaled, breathing harshly, watching as he yanked his shirt off and then dragged me onto his lap, bringing his lips to mine and devouring me in a kiss so deep and passionate, that I was seeing stars within miliseconds.

It appeared, this was make-up sex.

I quite liked make-up sex.

"_Am I being too rough?_" he managed to ask, separating, swollen lips, providing us with a couple seconds to catch our breath. "_Granger?_"

"_No,_" I told him, rotating my hips on his lap, feeling his response beneath me, as I brought my mouth to his ear and whispered something.

His cheeks turned scarlet. "_You want me to…_"

"_I want you to fuck me,_" I repeated, leaning forward, kissing him and biting on his bottom lip, hard enough that he winced — in a good way.

I'll admit, the conversation with Astoria had played a number on me, but more than that, there was a lot of build up between myself and Nott. I knew he was dying. He knew he was dying. Our time together was limited. Take that, and combine it with the fact that we had lost our virginity together, in that same school, and spent the past two years pretending we weren't attracted to one another — and the end result is something that can't simply be satiated with missionary on a Tuesday evening.

I wanted him in a deepest, most mind bending, agonizing sense.

Ten or so seconds passed, wherein he said nothing, simply staring at me, as though he were waiting for me to tell him I was teasing, but no such words came from me. I waited for him, watching as realization swept over his features and as his deep, midnight blue eyes, darkened even further. It was tantalizing.

"_Take off your clothes,_" he instructed, hovering over me, on his knees, as I climbed from my place on his lap and did as he said.

I unbuttoned my shirt and parted with it, along with my bra and pyjama bottoms, tossing the items to the floor. My boyfriend shifted closer, behind me, kissing my neck and grazing my skin with his teeth. In doing so, he coaxed a throaty, raspy moan from my lips, causing my eyes to roll to the back of my skull, as he brought his hands to my bare breasts and pinched the points, soft enough that it didn't hurt but hard enough that I knew he wanted this, too.

"_These, too —_" he ordered, brushing his hands over my panties. "_Now._"

"_Yes, professor._"

I knew he couldn't see the smile on my face, but something told me he could sense it. Bearing that in mind, I hooked my thumbs around the waistband of my panties and slid them off, resting on my bum and lifting my legs up, before tossing them with the pile of clothes on the floor.

From there, we were facing one another.

Those eyes darkened as he caught sight of me, nothing on. "_Spread._"

I sucked in a long breath, bringing moisture to my lips as I spread my knees apart, eager as he moved between my legs. For a moment, I thought he would tear off his boxers and bury himself inside me, but the next moment, those thoughts were wiped clean. I watched, surprised but turned on as he bent his head down between my legs and without warning, ran the tip of his gorgeous tongue between my lower lips — tasting the effect he had on me.

It wasn't unusual for him to go down on me, as we went down on another almost every time he came home, but he had never done it like this before.

I arched my back, trembling, moaning, quivering, as he flicked and sucked hard on the most sensitive area. Every so often, he would bite down on it, gently, attuned with what felt the best and wielding it to his advantage. It would have annoyed me that he knew my body so well, had it not been for the orgasm that came crashing down on me, within the first minute of his tongue on me.

"_Theo…_" I all but shouted, breathing his name over and over again. "_Oh my…Oh my gosh…_"

But it wasn't over.

He kept going, bringing me to another and then another orgasm, quicker and with a little less self-restraint each time. I slammed my thighs together, with his head still there, and rode through the third orgasm in waves.

It was tangible, the manner in which he set my senses alight.

"_Bend over —_" he said with haste, lifting his head from my legs and flipping me so that I was on all fours.

"**_Yes_**_,_" I breathed, chest pumping as he lowered his boxers and finally, buried his entire length inside me. It was everything. I cried out, grasping the bed sheets for dear life, hoping the walls in the dungeons weren't thin, because I had no intention of being quiet. "_Keep — Keep going._"

He did.

He crashed in and out of me with impeccable speed and just enough force to make both our heads spin with insurmountable pleasure. It was ecstasy. It was the tunnel and the light, without the drugs.

It was everything.

"_This is how you like it?_" he asked me, voice hoarse.

I moaned his name. "_Yes, yes, yes…_"

"_Beg for it._"

"_Please…_" I begged him, knuckles white from how hard I grasped the sheets, brain fuzzy as he lowered himself onto me, grinding our bodies together with his hands on my hips. "_P…Please…_"

"_Louder,_" he challenged me.

I struggled to think straight, let alone speak. "_Let me — Let me come. Please. P — Please. Please!_"

It was all limbs and bashing and heavy moans from there.

Nott turned me over and pinned me against the bed frame, cupping both sides of my face and placing a smooth kiss on my lips — as though he were apologizing for being rough with me, even though I begged for it. Still, the feel of his lips on mine detonated my senses, along with his thrusts and slow, torturous grind.

I quivered against him, coming hard, simultaneous with him, as he brought his lips to my neck and groaned against my jugular, riding the waves with me.

**_Two Months Later _**

"_Hermione?_"

It was Friday, which meant late meetings and having to deal with other people — which I normally avoided at work. I wasn't a misanthropist. I was reclusive. I had a lot on my mind, and preferred to think about those things alone. But the more time I spent, barricaded in my office, the more my friends began to wonder.

Harry arrived at my door. "_You missed the meeting._"

I glanced up, and then at my wrist watch, noticing three hours had come and gone, without me even realizing it. "_Oh, shit! I'm so sorry. I…I lost track of time._"

"_It's okay,_" he told me, entering my office with a file in hand. "_ — but you did miss something rather important._"

"_What is it?_"

Harry opened the file and slid a couple sheets of parchment across my desk. "_It's a new assignment, on location. I thought to take it myself, but I figured you could use the time away, as you've been stressed and as Theo is busy preparing his students for exams._"

I smiled weakly at my friend, appreciating the fact that he cared enough to think about me, with a newborn child in his life. "_How are Ginny and James?_"

"_They're doing well,_" he answered, returning my smile and eyes brightening at the mention of his baby boy. "_You should come around more. James needs someone to teach him arithmancy._"

"_He's one week old,_" I laughed, having a gander at the assignment.

Harry shrugged, laughing as well. "_A wise and gifted Head Girl once told me it's never too soon to learn._"

"_She's right,_" I told him, nodding with approval, skimming the handwriting in front of me. " _— wait, New york? The assignment is in New York?_"

"_Is that a problem?_" Harry asked, curious.

I blanked. "_Just, New York is in a completely different continent. To my knowledge, we don't have jurisdiction in America._"

"_That's right,_" he confirmed. "_ — but with the newly established treaty between us and the American Ministry, we are allowed extradition of British criminals. It so happens there's a Scottish wizard hiding away in New York, for crimes against house elves._"

"_House elves?_" I repeated, horror stricken. "_Say no more. I'm on it. I'll extradite his arse out of America and into Azkaban, no questions asked._"

Harry smiled. "_I thought you might say that._"

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><p><strong>AN: Thoughts? Was the sex scene too detailed? What about New York? A 'certain someone' is there, after all. **

**Remember, your reviews make this story possible! A big thank you to everyone who takes the time to read/review each chapter. Your generosity does not go unnoticed. Thanks, again. **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N: The content in this chapter (as well as the next few) will be a little different from the others. I thought it would be fun to finally give Hermione some action-y Auror stuff, since, y'know, she's an Auror lol.**

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><p>"<em>New York?<em>" he asked, his face floating in the fireplace, shaped by flames and tiny embers, as they flickered from the burning logs.

It was difficult to discern facial expression, using head-only transport via the Floo Network, but that didn't stop me from sensing the apprehension in his voice. There was little we kept from one another — close to nothing, actually — and against my better judgment, I decided to keep my scheduled visit to New York under need to know basis. Technically, I wasn't permitted the right to discuss assignments and things with people outside the department. It was against the rules.

But there was a small part of me that withheld this information, knowing it would rub my boyfriend the wrong way.

Bless him for doing his best to hide it.

"_I'll be gone for one night — tops,_" I explained to him. "_No more than that._"

For a couple seconds there, he didn't respond, causing the nerves in my stomach to toss and turn. I wasn't doing anything wrong. I was doing my job. There was no reason in the world for me to feel nervous about anything, particularly where Nott was concerned. But there I was, sweating it out.

"_Upstate or…?_"

"_Brooklyn,_" I answered.

He nodded, absorbing the information. "_Well, if your schedule permits it, squeeze in some sight seeing whilst you're out there. New York is an interesting place._"

I arched an eyebrow. "_That's all?_"

"_What did you think I would say?_" he asked, with a hint of amusement in his voice. "_ — to stay away from New York, as Draco is there, and that I don't trust you two near each other?_"

"_Er —_"

"_ — because that's not true,_" he interjected. "_I trust you, Granger._"

I smiled, relieved and happy and without a doubt, more in love with him than I had ever been. "_When can I see you?_"

Around that time, was the time his mood changed.

It wasn't easy to detect, but I sensed a fall in his expression.

If there were one question to set the entire conversation downhill, it was that one. You see, during the first few months of his new job, our relationship did well and I saw him a few times a week — at least. But the more months that passed, the more this changed and the less we saw of one another.

By this time, we were teetering close to an entire month with only letters and head-only transport via Floo Network. It wasn't ideal, but it was the best we could do. I knew his students needed him and of course, the Auror Office needed me. I wanted nothing more than to put my duties on hold and visit him again, and perhaps Shen, Sinead, Corvus and the other students, but I couldn't.

I had to focus.

So did he.

"_I'll see you as soon as I can,_" he told me, with a touch of remorse. "_I'd be home every night, if I could. You know that, don't you?_"

"_I know,_" was all I could say.

He put on a smile for me. "_I miss you._"

"_I miss you, too._"

Prepared to end the conversation and absorb myself in paperwork for the mission at hand, I cleared my throat, thinking only of New York and the possibilities ahead. To my understanding, it was a solo mission, which meant I had no time to sight-see or run into Draco, as he lived in the Upper East Side of Manhattan, whereas I had to remain in Brooklyn for the duration of my visit. Same city. Different boroughs. Different vibes.

Still.

I hadn't seen him since Whistler — about ten months.

"_What's on your mind?_" my boyfriend asked, snapping me out of my dazed state.

I flicked my eyes at the fireplace, having forgotten he was there. "_Just nervous about the mission. It's my first solo mission out of the continent._"

"_Maybe Harry should go with you,_" he suggested.

I thought about it, before shaking my head. "_He should be here, in England, with James and Ginny._"

Nott paused, as though he'd forgotten about their newborn child. It didn't surprise me, as he had never seen James and had only seen Ginny a couple times during her pregnancy. Early in her second trimester, if I remembered correctly. Both she and Daphne tried their best to arrange a group dinner over the holidays (about a month ago) but we were all in different parts of the world. Times had changed in the space of one year. Ginny and Harry were at the Burrow; Daphne and Ron were in Russia, visiting her distant cousins; Draco was in Manhattan; Astoria was on a road trip, along the west coast of America, with some of her Muggle friends; leaving myself and Nott in Switzerland, with my parents.

It was interesting, introducing them for the first time.

Before then, I had never experienced a 'meet the parents' type situation, as Ronald had already known my parents, from when we were school children. But with Nott, things were different. Clean slate. Minimal information. Nothing more than his name and his profession. They were skeptical of him, at first, learning he'd been sorted into Slytherin and was of pureblood upbringing, but within seconds of that initial conversation, their notions of him were swept aside.

My mother, Dr. Penelope Ann Granger, simply adored him — and I could tell, just from the glint in her eyes, that she heard wedding bells in the not too distant future.

Ah, mothers.

My father, Dr. Rowan Granger, remained quiet, for the most part, but eventually warmed up to my boyfriend, as the latter showed surprising knowledge of dentistry and football — Rowan's most favourite subjects.

"_I've been meaning to ask,_" Nott suddenly said, breaking my concentration. "_How are Ron and Daphne doing? I haven't heard anything about them since — _"

"_ — since he bought the ring?_" I finished, an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach as I thought about their situation. "_To my knowledge, he planned on proposing over her birthday, about five months ago, but didn't._"

"_D'you think he's second guessing it?_"

I shrugged. "_If all goes well, he'll put a ring on it within the next few months. Daph is a decent woman and doesn't deserve to be strung along. It's been seven years for Merlin's sake._"

Nott paused a moment, and put words to the question that had been plaguing us for months now. "_What about us?_"

"_What __about__ us?_" I furthered, listening to the words echo within my subconscious.

"_D'you — D'you feel strung along?_" he asked.

I blinked. "_No. Not at all._"

"_I'm asking because we're both in our mid-twenties, which isn't old, by any means, but I don't want you to feel as though I'm holding you back or that —_"

"_Nott?_" I interjected.

He paused. "_Yes?_"

"_Maybe we should save this discussion for the next time we see each other._"

"_Right, right, of course —_" he nodded, putting on another smile. "_Well, I should get back to grading these essays. Talk to you tomorrow?_"

Something tugged at my chest muscles. "_I'll be in New York tomorrow._"

"_Oh_ — _right._"

From there, things fizzled out, leaving us stranded in an undeniably awkward place — one I'd feared since receiving news of the mission.

**_One Day Later_**

It was a cold night in New York.

I'd never been to the east of the United States, prior to that moment. It was a dream of mine to live there at some point, in a high rise, overlooking the metropolis, with the gentle, yet binding ambiance humming in the background. But the fantasy had come to crashing halt, the moment I decided to join the Auror Office. I could have been an Auror anywhere, sure, but the idea of abandoning my friends, when they needed me, was more than I could bear. That in mind, I forgot about my dreams and found myself drowning in a life that was beginning to feel foreign to me.

Being with Nott was the only thing that kept me sane, but even that had taken an unexpected turn. I heard our earlier conversation echo in the back of my mind, doing my best to ignore it as the American Auror that met me at the drop-zone led me to our destination.

It was a large building, in the middle of Brooklyn, invisible to Muggles and as I soon discovered, unplottable. From the outside, it appeared to be an abandoned warehouse, but it was, in fact, the Eastern Division of the MCUSA (Magical Congress of the United States of America).

I entered, alongside the reserved and stoic Auror Hernandez, and followed him to the Auror Office. It was different from the British Ministry of Magic, as there were no golden fountains or marble flooring. It appeared our American brothers and sisters took the no-bullshit route and opted for bare necessities, where their government was concerned.

It was dimly lit and quiet, reminding me of an underground hideout, and the deeper Auror Hernandez took me, through the darkened, torch-lit corridors, the sooner I wished to return home.

About ten minutes in, we had seen no one.

There were only corridors and doors and more corridors. The walls and floors were made of stone, with the odd marking or number to indicate what lay beyond. Auror Hernandez slowed his pace, once he realized a feeling of immense discomfort had settled within me.

"_You good?_" he asked, holding his wand out to light the rest of the way.

I nodded. "_Just a little jittery from the Port Key._"

His look was one of skepticism, but he didn't press me further. I studied him and his mannerisms, using that as a tool to distract myself. He looked to be in his late-twenties and had more than a few scars along his face and neck that told me he had been working this job for a long, long time. His hair was dark brown and his skin, caramel, clear apart from his scarring. There were no dark circles or bags under his eyes, nor wrinkles in his clothes, proving he was a routine, punctual man who lived life by the books. His uniform consisted of a long black robe with a small emblem in the corner that denoted his division and ranking — Senior Auror, like myself — along with several columns of silver stars to mark every heroic deed he had done to protect his country and its civilians.

"_Jones is waiting for you inside,_" he told me, pausing in front a door located at the end of the fifth floor corridor. "_I'll be here when you're done._"

I paused, giving him a look of thanks, before moving forth.

**_Ten Minutes Later _**

In the office, there were shelves that lined the walls from ceiling to floor, filled to the brim with various titles — old and new — and carried with them, the smell of parchment and ink. I sat in the chair across from the desk, watching as Auror Jones poured two cups of coffee. Judging from the ring stains on his desk, I figured this was something of a routine for him, but I was in no position to ask. I merely bowed my head in gratitude, as he handed me the cleaner of the cups.

From there, he leaned against the ledge of his desk, dressed in a dark blue button down with the sleeves rolled up and a black tie loose around his neck, along with a pair of black trousers. I could see that his robe was hung on the coat rack near the door, as though he rarely, if ever, wore it. Perhaps he found the garment a nuisance or uncomfortable. Perhaps he simply wished to conceal his accomplishments from his enemies, as to surprise them on the battlefield.

In that moment, I couldn't help but wonder if that's how he viewed me.

I forced my lips into a smile as his eyes found mine, noticing the flecks of grey in his light brown hair. Unlike Hernandez, it appeared Jones did not live by the books, and the narrow look he gave me supported this argument.

"_So, you're here to fetch the slaver?_" he began, scanning me. "_Save it to the Brits to send a kid._"

I arched an eyebrow.

To this, he snickered. "_Relax. I'm jokin' around._"

"_Hermione Granger,_" I voiced, rising from the chair with a sense of purpose and holding my hand out to him, waiting until he reluctantly shook it. "_Senior Auror at the British Ministry of Magic, trusted member of the Order of the Phoenix, survivor of the Battle of Hogwarts and founder of the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare._"

Jones mirrored the arch in my brow, and gave my hand a good, firm shake. "_I know who you are and what you've done, but that doesn't make you any less of a kid,_" he told me. "_Now, should we move on to business or do you have anything else you'd like to say?_"

I held his gaze. "_Hand me the slaver and I'll be on my way._"

"**_Hand _**_you the slaver?_" he asked, laughing. "_I didn't agree to _**_handing _**_you anyone, kid._"

I opened my mouth to retort, before glancing at the parchment that he slid in my direction. It was a quick read, one that left me with an uncomfortable knot in my stomach. "_There must be a mistake,_" I vocalized. "_I was told the slaver would be in your custody, ready for pick-up. My superior said so._"

Jones shrugged. "_Maybe your superior needs to gets his facts checked._"

I tossed him a narrow look. "_Harry was obviously misinformed by your Office._"

"_I don't have time to talk semantics,_" he then said. "_Written on that parchment, you'll find the name and location of your slaver. That's the best I can do for you._"

"_If I'd known I would be hunting down the slaver on unfamiliar ground, I wouldn't have come to New York alone._"

"_Fine, you want help? Take Hernandez._"

"_But —_"

"_Ay!_" Jones called out, waiting until Auror Hernandez opened the door, closing it and then standing there with his arms folded behind him, militaristic and ready for order. "_Granger here needs help. You're familiar with the Upper East Side, yeah?_"

Hernandez nodded. "_Yes, sir._"

"_Good. Get this broad out of my hair, catch the criminal and send both their asses back to England. Understood?_"

"_Loud and clear, sir._"

I stared between them, alarmed at how Jones was speaking to him and thinking about how nothing like that would ever have happened at home. In all the back and forth, one thing managed to echo loudest. Upper East Side_. _I glanced at the parchment Jones had laid out for me and found the name and location of the slaver.

_Jonathan Young._

_Last seen in Manhattan._

A rich, trust-fund brat who blew away his wealth before his nineteenth birthday and from there, decided it would be a good idea to get into house elf slave trade to support his frivolous lifestyle.

"_The bastard is at some fancy, highbrow, black tie gala in the Upper East Side. It's a Muggle event. Go low key, or we'll end up with another violation against the Statute of Secrecy,_" Jones advised. "_That means dress up._"

Although I wasn't happy taking orders from a man like him, he had a point. There was no choice. Both myself and Hernandez had to take the clean approach: _detain him as fast and as painlessly as possible_. Simple enough. I had done numerous undercover missions, but there was one problem with this one, other than the fact that I had to work with a stranger.

I hadn't a change of clothes, and the ones one my back were entirely inappropriate for a black tie affair. Something told me Hernandez was in a similar predicament, leaving us with one option. I moved past the men and dipped Jones' quill into a pot of ink, before scrawling something onto a scrap of parchment.

_Draco, I need your help…_

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><p><strong>AN: Thoughts? Don't worry, this won't be too much of a departure. Also, there is an actor/model list for this story, posted on my blog. Link in my bio. Check frequently, as I'll add new actors/models as the story progresses. **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N: Chapter Thirty-Seven!**

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><p>I entered the guest room, having arrived with Hernandez to Draco's apartment. It was a penthouse, as if I expected anything less, with an amazing view of the Upper East Side. He had clearly done well for himself, as a designer. I noticed various photographs and magazine covers lining his walls. In them, various models were dressed in his own designs. Until then, I hadn't heard about the fact that he stopped working for Benoit and started working on his own line. If things weren't awkward between us, I would have told him how proud I was, that he was well on his way to accomplishing his dreams.<p>

"_Hermione,_" he voiced, standing on the other side of the door. "_I know you're tight on time, but do you think we could talk for a minute?_"

Something tugged at my chest. "_Erm — sure. Just one second._" I slipped out of my clothes and into the dress he'd lent me, with insurmountable haste, before opening the door. "_Hi._"

His attention remained at eye level, as he proceeded into the room. "_How's the fit?_"

"_It — It's good,_" I nodded, glancing into the full length mirror.

The dress was a simple black number with a sweetheart neckline and skirts that ran inches below my knees. It was smart and sensible, and with it I had a smooth white shawl to cover my shoulders, should the weather disagree with me.

"_So, what did you want to discuss?_" I asked him, fixing my hair into a sleek knot.

"_Right —_" From there, he glanced down and in his hand, held a pair of pumps. "_I figured you might need these._"

It was bizarre, being back in his presence, wearing one of his creations — but there was no part of me that felt the same magnetism that I did in Benoit's dress shop. I mean, sure, mine and Nott's relationship was on the rocks, as both our schedules had taken such a hectic turn. That, however, didn't change the fact that I loved Nott and that a simple good deed from Draco Malfoy wasn't enough to distort what we shared.

"_Do you secretly dress in women's clothes or…?_"

Draco laughed, placing the heels at my feet, moving back as I slipped into them. "_I design clothes for a living, or did you forget?_"

I broke into a grin, turning towards the mirror and taking one last look at myself. It had been ages since the last time I'd dressed up for anything. Even though I was on a mission, it felt nice to wear good clothes and pretend to be someone that mattered — if only for the night.

"_Your apartment is nice,_" I voiced, making adjustments to my hair. "_I'm sure your friends have a good time 'round here._"

"_Actually, I haven't had anyone over in about a year,_" he confessed to me, leaning against the doorframe. " — _nor have I been anywhere else._"

For some reason, his confession didn't sit well with me. I ignored the discomfort in my stomach and faced him. "_Is there something else you wanted to discuss, or was it just about the shoes?_"

Maintaing eye level, he straightened his posture. "_I wanted to let you know that I'm glad you came to me tonight — and that I have no plans of interfering in yours and Nott's relationship._"

I opened my mouth to say something, taken aback. "_You —_"

"_Save it,_" he interjected, flashing me a knowing look, one that silenced me as much as his words had done. "_Things have been awkward between us for a long time, and as much I'd love to pretend we're on good terms, I can't. That said, I have enough respect for both you and Nott, to keep my distance. I'll get you and your Auror friend into the gala — and that's all. No funny business from me. No letters. No propositions._"

There were a number of things I could have said in response, but I settled with an even nod.

**_One Hour Later _**

It turned out the black tie affair Jones had mentioned wasn't any old soiree. It was the annual Met Gala, complete with a red carpet and other frivolities. I felt out of place the moment we stepped out of the car, knowing Hernandez, my date for the evening, felt the exact same.

Regardless, there was a job to be done.

Draco was already invited to the event, as he was an up and coming designer, and close friends with Anna Wintour (wot) which meant his job was to dress us up and get us in, which he did. I entered alongside Hernandez, knowing he was sweating from the hairline. Somehow, we had managed to dodge the photographers, not that Muggles had any interest in our lives. To these people, I was a stranger, a nobody. I would have taken advantage of the situation and had a few, but I had to stay on my best behaviour.

"_Game face,_" Hernandez mumbled under his breath, though I couldn't tell whether he was talking to me or himself.

I moved with him to an area that was a little less crowded, where we could had an overhead view. People were chatting and having drinks, exchanging information, envious of one another and ultimately uptight. I figured the mood would die out as the evening progressed. It was still cocktail hour, which meant the formal dinner had yet to take place, but I had no plans of sticking around for that. I had one name on my mind.

"_Do you see him?_" I whispered to Hernandez, mouth lingering near him, to make it look like we were a couple.

Catching the signals I was putting down, the man placed one hand along the small of my back and leaned towards me — something I had given him permission to do before we arrived. "_Two o'clock._ _By those twins._"

I waited a moment, before following his line of vision, locating a tall, red-haired gentleman, dressed to the nines, chatting with a pair of familiar looking twins. It took me about three seconds to realize.

"_Oh, my Gosh!_" I exclaimed, clapping a hand over my mouth. "_He — He's talking to Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen!_"

Hernandez looked to me, a firm arch in his brow. "_Who?_"

I turned to him, eyes wide. "_Full Hou — never mind. Just, wait here. I'll give you the signal when the time is right._"

From there, I moved to a different area, closer to where Jonathan Young was chatting with my childhood idols. It was game time. There was one shot to pull this off, one chance to make sure the bastard was thrown behind bars. If he so much as suspected I was up to something, he would run, as he'd been running for the past five years.

To my knowledge, he had a thing for famous women. I wouldn't have classed myself as 'famous' per se, but my name was known in the wizarding community. I was sure he'd know me, and for the first time, I would use my public portrayal to my advantage.

I let my hair down, brushing through the curls with the tips of my fingers, watching through my peripheral vision, as the twins left his side and as he wheeled a look around, searching for his next victim.

It took about five seconds for his attention to fall squarely on me. I could feel him looking at me, recognizing me, questioning my presence at a Muggle event — and only then, did I flick my gaze in his direction. I'll admit, he was a looker — a poor excuse for a human being, but a looker nonetheless.

With only my eyes, I beckoned him towards me, watching as he shifted the bow-tie around his neck. There was a determined look on his face, something I could have laughed at, were the mission not relying on my success. I opted to stay where I was, swiping a glass of champagne from one of the serving trays and pretending to sip from it. I figured he'd been even more interested in a _slightly inebriated_ famous woman.

Around one minute later, there was a tap on my shoulder.

I turned, expecting to find Jonathan with his tongue drooping out of his mouth, and instead laying eyes on a young woman, around my age, dressed in red, with a man who appeared to be old enough to be her father. Though, from the hold she had on his arm, I figured he was her date.

Gross.

"_That dress is to die for!_" she exclaimed, dazzled as she scanned my outfit. "_You have to tell me who you're wearing!_"

I paused, forgetting the answer for a couple seconds. "_Erm — Draco Malfoy._"

The young woman nodded enthusiastically, as though she had known all along. "_I love his new line. Plus, he's so hot! My name's Bethany, FYI._"

"_Nice to meet you,_" I managed to say, blank in the eyes, forcing a smile on my face as I took an actual drink from the champagne.

"_By the way,_" she furthered, leaning to my ear. "_What is Hermione Granger doing at the Met Gala?_"

I paused, choking on the champagne. "_Beg — Beg your pardon?_"

Bethany winked at me. "_Don't worry. I won't tell._"

"_You're a — You're a witch?_" I asked her, making sure to keep my voice down.

She nodded, pulling her date into the conversation. " — _and my gorgeous date here is the famous experimental Healer, Atticus Grant._"

I looked to the man, and the peculiar colour of his suit. It was plum purple and a little _louder _than what the other gentlemen were wearing. He was, without a doubt, a wizard. Part of me felt stupid for not realizing it sooner, but we _were _at a fashion event, so…

"_I'll be right back. I'm going to find Izzy and introduce her to my new best friend Hermione Granger. Wait here!_" Bethany planted a kiss on Atticus Grant's cheek, before leaving us to our own devices.

In that moment, he looked at me, amusement in his eyes. "_Sorry about that. She's a little firecracker, that one._"

I returned his look. "_That's okay,_" I assured him, listening Bethany's earlier words repeat with in my subconscious. "_So, you're an experimental Healer?_"

He nodded. "_For the past ten years. Nothing fancy. Just bending the rules without breaking them._"

"_If you don't mind me asking, what sort of experiments do you conduct?_"

"_Modified wolfsbane, as to make the monthly transformation less painful as well as the original purpose of giving the victim consciousness throughout their phase. It wasn't a complete success, but I'm stilling working on it. I've also dabbled in preventative potions to combat Veela-related compulsion,_" he explained. " — _still no cure for the common cold, however._"

I shared a laugh with him. "_Well, it's a pleasure to meet you. I don't think I've ever met an experimental Healer before._"

"_It's not something one would usually brag about,_" Atticus furthered, shrugging, acting a lot younger than he appeared, which made sense out of his situation with Bethany. "_Bit frowned upon, to be honest._"

"_But you're doing good work,_" I reasoned.

To this, his expression wavered. "_Not everyone agrees. Particularly families of the patients. They feel I give their loved ones false hope, in exchange for money. It's a messy situation, but I do the best I can._"

Grant's words resonated with me, causing the little voice in the back of my mind to grow louder and louder, until I couldn't help but speak.

"_Have you any experience with Arcturus Disease?_" I asked, knowing it was a shot in the dark, but trying anyway. "_It's — erm — It's a degenerative disease exclusive to —_"

" — _pureblood males,_" Grant finished, nodding. "_I'm familiar with it. It's actually the reason I turned to experimental Healing. My good friend died of Arcturus Disease when we were kids._"

I stared at him, moist eyed. "_I'm so sorry…_"

"_It was a long time ago,_" he shrugged, though not enough to convince me the mention of his friend had no affect on him. "_Anyway, I've been conducting several experiments regarding AD and although I usually keep my results close to me, I'll let you in on a little secret._"

Something tugged at my heartstrings. "_What kind of secret?_"

Grant took the expression on my face in, for a brief moment, as though he realized with one look, what I had riding on his next words. "_Husband?_"

"_Boyfriend,_" I answered, glancing down a moment, holding back the emotion that threatened to pool around my eyes.

"_Well, why don't you finish up for the night and then send him to me,_" the man said, reaching into his breast pocket and handing me his card. "_It hasn't been released to the public, but I think I have what your boyfriend is looking for._"

**_Twenty Minutes Later _**

Hernandez pulled me aside, having located me as I wheeled a look around, in search of our target. In all the chaos that erupted, from my discussion with Atticus Grant, the mission at hand had slipped my mind.

"_Sorry,_" I blurted, following him to a secluded area. "_Someone came up to me and —_"

" — _don't worry about it,_" he interjected. "_Young is headed for the mens room. He's set to leave within the hour. We don't have much time._"

I nodded, chucking our original plan out of the window and heading for the desired room. More than a few gentlemen glanced in my direction, but I had no time to tell them off, as there was too much riding on the next few moments.

From there, both myself and Hernandez proceeded to the doors of the mens room, during which time I signalled for him to cover me, before I popped one look inside and around the corner, and found Jonathan Young snorting a line of cocaine, alone.

His eyes found mine, as he glanced into the mirror, narrowing a moment, before he turned and leaned back, against the ledge of the sinks. Slow as can be.

"_You, young lady, have been teasing me all night,_" he voiced, shooting me a wink. "_What do you think your friend Harry Potter would say about that?_"

I smiled at this, moving closer to him, making sure to hold his gaze the entire way there. "_I'm here to have fun, same as you._"

Jonathan then tossed me a look, so sickening that it made my skin crawl. "_Why don't you come over here, and we'll have some fun together?_"

"_I like the sound of that…_"

Seconds later, we were in close proximity. I could taste the stench of his cologne, which smelled so strong that I was sure he bathed in it. There was also his hand, which moved up and down my left arm, bringing me closer to him before he gestured towards the remaining line of cocaine.

"_For me?_" I asked.

He nodded.

I hid the discomfort in my veins and bent down, pretending to gather my hair to one side, waiting one second, two seconds, three, until reaching into my cleavage and withdrawing a narrow strip of wood: ten inches and dragon heartstring core.

"_Stupefy!_" I exclaimed, feeling a sharp, precise surge of magic leave the end of my wand, and watching as it made contact with the target's chest, propelling the man backwards, before he slammed into the wall and fell to the floor in a heap.

Hernandez entered then, breathing hard, looking at me, surprised with just a hint of a smile on his lips. "_I guess that's one way to do it._"

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><p><strong>AN: Thoughts on Atticus Grant? Is he out for money or does he actually have something that will help Nott?**

**Cheers**

**xo.**


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N: Chapter Thirty-Eight. **

**Small note: MCUSA = Magical Congress of the United States of America**

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><p>I found Draco later that night, as Auror Hernandez graciously volunteered to watch over Jonathan Young. It wasn't difficult to find the tall, fair-haired pureblood, as numerous women, both young and old, fawned over him and attempted to flirt with him all night. I did nothing but laugh, moving closer, and raising eyebrows as we hooked arms and left. His chauffeur, a man called Frank, was kind and gentle, and reminded me of Arthur Weasley.<p>

From there, we met with Auror Hernandez and an unconscious Jonathan Young at the location of my Port Key home, and parted ways.

"_It was nice seeing you again,_" I told him, standing there awkwardly, as Hernandez pretended not to listen. "_You should come 'round next time you're home._"

Draco nodded, having instructed Frank to drive around the block a couple times, as to give us enough time to have a proper farewell. "_I'll do that._"

"_Thanks, again,_" I added. "— _for your help tonight._"

He glanced down, hands in his pockets. "_It was my pleasure. Say hello to Nott for me, yeah?_"

"_I will._"

"_Strange that he's Potions Master,_" Draco commented, as though he couldn't wrap his head around the fact that we were finally adults, with adult responsibilities and adult titles.

I nodded, suddenly remembering something that had been overlooked. "— _or that Rabastan Lestrange teaches Defense Against Dark Arts._"

Draco shrugged, rather indifferent. "_He was never a Death Eater._"

"_But —_"

"_Double agent,_" he interjected. "_Just like Professor Snape, except Lestrange wasn't an official member of the Order. To my knowledge, he worked exclusively for the Minister. A fly on the wall, so to speak._"

I arched an eyebrow, surprised and a little embarrassed, seeing as I was a member of the Order and an accomplished Auror, but had no idea about Rabastan's history.

The pureblood sensed my confusion and furthered the topic. "_Lestrange went into hiding after the First Wizarding War, as to protect himself from loyal Death Eaters — such as my father — and although we managed to track him down in time for the Battle of Hogwarts, he disappeared from our dungeons about three nights after he was captured. Some say the Order found him and released him, whereas others believe his brother Rodolphus took pity on him and set him free, to continue their family legacy, should the dark side fall._"

I blinked, hard. "_That's…quite interesting, actually._"

Again, he shrugged.

From there, we exchanged our goodbyes and I watched, silent and still, as his town car drove into the night, reflecting the street lights on its smooth, black surface. I turned to Hernandez next and shook his hand, truly grateful that he helped me and made sure I returned from the mission in one piece.

"_It was my honour to work with you tonight,_" he told me, giving me a firm look of approval, smiling with his eyes. "_You're a good Auror, Hermione Granger._"

I smiled, genuinely happy to have met him. "_You, too. Make sure to send an owl my way, should you find yourself on my side of the Atlantic._"

His own smile dropped down to his lips. "_Will do. Safe travels._"

With that, we made the exchange. I suspended Jonathan Young about two feet from the ground, rendering him unconscious and binding his arms and legs with a quick spell.

I looked to my co-Auror for the night and waved one last goodbye, before brushing my fingers against the Port Key. "_Have a good one, Hernandez._"

The sights, sounds and overall ambiance blended into the same darkened haze, and before I knew it, I felt that familiar jerk along my navel. It was difficult to tell, as I was soon propelled into the vortex that was teleportation, but amid the chaos, I could have sworn Hernandez said one last thing to me. _The name's Miguel._

**_Two Days Later _**

I raced through the corridors, sprinting through various groups of students, as they congregated in the communal areas for their morning meals. More than a few had words for me, shouting them as I carried on, breaking into a full on sprint. It was a good thing I had opted for trainers, as I had yet to grow accustomed to walking in heels, let alone running in them. That in mind, I continued into the dungeons, having brushed past some familiar faces (including Neville: Herbology Professor), before screeching to a full stop in front of the Potions classroom.

It was silly to run, but I had good news for my boyfriend, news that I was sure he'd be pleased to hear.

According to Ginny, I should have given him a heads up before making the journey but I couldn't wait the hours it would take for him to respond. Owl Post was a little slow like that. Instead, I Floo'd to Hogsmeade and rented a carriage to Hogwarts with Atticus Grant's business card in my grasp. I would have preferred to tell Nott the good news as soon as I returned from New York, but there were stacks upon stacks of paperwork that needed my immediate attention, regarding Young and his hearing.

"_Hermione?_" someone voiced, the moment I opened the door.

I breathed in, expecting to find Theo and instead landing eyes on Shen Chang.

He was a pleasant sight, though not the one for which I had hoped. I wheeled a look around the classroom and found it was empty, save for myself and the young Ravenclaw. From there, I approached him, sensing there was something I didn't know about. To my understanding, Theodore had his breakfast in his classroom, as he found it more efficient to eat and do his work at the same time.

Shen rose from his seat, dressed in casual, weekend clothes consisting of fitted jeans and a black t-shirt with the _Arctic Monkeys _logo in white. It appeared he was working on an assignment to do with the properties and dangers of _felix felicis. _I noticed several rolls of scrapped parchment laying around his desk, as though he was on his fourth or fifth attempt. Strange behaviour, for someone Nott had described as _effortlessly clever_. Perhaps something was on his mind.

"_I'm sorry to interrupt,_" I apologized. "_ — but, erm, do you know where I can find Professor Nott?_"

His expression changed, teetering between alarm and remorse — though I couldn't imagine why.

Shen swallowed, rather hard.

I froze, mid-step. "_What's the matter?_"

"_Follow me,_" he instructed, pausing a couple moments before leading me out of the dungeons and into the corridors.

I followed, hurrying to meet his stride.

Again, students were looking at me, whispering to one another, but this time it did not appear as though those were whispers of gossip. Rather, something else. I tried to ignore the discomfort that settled within my gut, but I couldn't. I followed Shen to the Grand Staircase, met with several portraits that shared the same questionable behaviour as the students.

"_Shen —_" I interjected, breaking his concentration as he led me to the fourth floor. "_What's going on?_"

The young man paused, his foot hovering mid-air, before he set it down, turning to face me. His attention was fixed to the floor. "_I — I thought you knew._"

"_Knew what?_" I asked, suppressing the sudden urge to shake it out of him. "_Knew what, Shen?_"

"_Just — Just follow me,_" he opted to say, turning back around and leading me into the corridor that connected the fourth floor to the Hospital Wing.

I followed in silence, fighting the ache that tugged and twisted within the confines of my ribcage. It came over me a grand, sweeping realization. I'm sure, reading this, you found it obvious from the moment I entered the Potions classroom to find him gone, but to me, living through it, the shock was insurmountable. I entered the Hospital Wing, skirting past several beds before making my way to one, on top of which Nott's body lay.

He was unconscious, though not in a way that told me he'd been in an accident. I glanced to his bedside and noticed a bottle of _Sleeping Draught._

Shen found me then, bringing a couple chairs for us, waiting for me, as I sunk into the closest one. "_It happened early this morning. Professor Nott organized a peer tutoring program, and asked me to help. I accepted and helped tutor some of the younger students, most of whom caught on and finished their work within minutes — but there was one problem student. Slytherin. Corvus Carrow's younger brother, I think. Anyway, he grew frustrated with me and waited until my back was turned, before attempting to set my cloak on fire. Professor Nott noticed in the last minute and tried to stop it but — he couldn't._"

I listened in silence, blinking, motionless. "_Second stage. He's losing his magic._"

Shen pointed his head down. "_I'm sorry you had to find out from me. I — I thought Headmistress McGonagall contacted you._"

"_Don't apologize,_" I told him. "_You're a good boy — a good man. For that, I thank you._"

"_Quit chatting up my student —_" someone voiced, catching both of us off guard, as we glanced to the hospital bed and noticed Nott batting his eyes open, struggling to sit up. " — _and you, quit chatting up my fiancée._"

Shen swallowed hard, cheeks bright, bright red. "_Erm — good to see you're okay, Professor. I'll just — I'll leave you to it._" He then glanced to me, nodding farewell. "_Hermione. I — I mean, Miss Granger._" His chair fell to the floor, as he rose from it, uncharacteristically awkward. "_Shit! I mean, shoot! I mean — _**_oh, sod it_**_._"

Both myself and Nott watched, holding back the urge to laugh as Shen Chang left the Hospital Wing, mumbling things to himself, things that made me glad I was no longer a teenager.

Nott looked to me then, smiling. "_Sorry about that._"

"_About what?_"

"_Calling you my fiancée,_" he said quietly, shooting me a quick look. "_It kind of just poured out. Sorry._"

I returned his smile. "_I don't mind — at all, actually._"

From there, he laced our hands together, bringing me to his bedside, where we sat in silence for the most part, facing one another, existing together. There were a mix of different things I wanted to say, to tell him, but none of those things came from me. I could do nothing but look at him, at his now sunken face and tired eyes. The last time I'd seen him, he was healthy as ever.

Things had changed in the space of one month.

I could see it in his physicality, and hear it in Shen Chang's words, as they repeated back to me, reverberating within the walls of my subconscious mind.

Nott curved a hand along my cheek, wiping a stray tear from my lower lash line, as it hung in the balance. "_Don't cry, Granger…_"

It seemed those words were all it took, for the wave of emotion to surface, finding life as I curved my hand over his.

"_How was New York?_" he asked, easing us into conversation, making an obvious attempt at distracting me from the situation at hand — something for which I was oddly grateful. "_Did you run into trouble at the MCUSA? I've heard Head Auror Jones is a right prick._"

I nodded. "_He is — but regardless of that, the mission went well._"

Nott smiled then. "_I'm glad._"

In the next few minutes, I explained what happened in America, making no attempt at withholding the bit about Draco, nor mine and Hernandez's ease as partners. For some reason, the only name I didn't mention was that of Atticus Grant. Something tugged at my abdominal muscles each time I tried. I couldn't bring myself to open that discussion.

"_The Met Gala?_" Nott repeated, impressed. "_Sounds like Jonathan Young could use some advice on how to keep a low profile._"

I nodded, laughing a little. "_Bloke was snorting cocaine in the loo and everything._"

His face scrunched into a look of disapproval. "_Pills and powders are no fun,_" he told me, speaking matter-of-factly. "_Herb, on the other hand…_"

"_How long has it been?_"

"_For me?_" he furthered, thinking, a look of surprise tugging at his facial muscles as he landed on a number. "_ — about five months._"

I thought distantly of the time in the dungeons, with him, after hours — my fondest memory as a teenager. Also, one of few normal ones. "_I suppose smoking up in the corridors would set a bad example for your students._"

Nott laughed, nodding his head. "_Another reason for me to come home,_" he said to me, shifting his gaze in my direction, slowly. "_ — apart from the main one._"

I smiled, placing a kiss on his forehead, as he had done to me numerous times in our ten month relationship — and a few times before.

"_I guess it's time to talk about it,_" he reluctantly put forth.

"_It is,_" I nodded, bringing our hands together, waiting a moment before finding the words to speak. "_What's going to happen?_"

Nott glanced down, swallowing the tension in his throat. "_If I keep taking my daily potions and maintain a calm, healthy lifestyle…I'll have a year, maybe two._"

I blinked, unaware that there were tears in my eyes until a couple of them fell from my chin to the blanket.

"_ — which means I'll have to resign,_" he furthered, calm despite the words coming from his mouth and the fact that he looked in all directions but mine. "_I — I'm glad you're here, Granger. I'm glad we can do this face-to-face._"

Something about his latter statement didn't sit well with me. "_What do you mean?_"

Nott flicked his eyes at me, a hairline of moisture clinging to his lashes. He opened his mouth, either to say something, to break the wall of silence that divided us, but no words came from him. Instead, he leaned towards me and kissed me, for the first time since my arrival. It was a different kiss than any I'd ever had — from him or anyone.

It lingered on my lips for a long time.

His touch. His smooth, caring movements. The taste of his tears mixed with mine.

I breathed in, unaware that I was shaking, until the stroke of his hands on my arms calmed me. He whispered things to me, directly over my lips. I listened, clinging to him as though he would disappear at any given moment.

"_Listen to me,_" he whispered, brushing our lips together, combing through my hair with his fingertips. "_Meeting you in that dungeon, ten years ago, changed my life. I heard things about you, about the bossy, know-it-all Hermione Granger, but talking to you that first time, I learned none of those things were true. You weren't bossy or controlling, and although you did know a lot, you didn't know it all. Namely, that I had fallen for you — hard._"

I sucked in the breath that escaped his lips, listening as though my life depended on it.

"_Nothing has changed since that night,_" he said. "_I loved you then, and I love you now, and I'll keep loving you, long after the world tells me to stop._"

"_Fuck the world,_" I blurted, crying. "_I — I can't do this without you._"

Nott smiled at me then, brushing the tears from my face. "_You'll be fine, Granger. You're a smart, resourceful witch, with a good group of friends and parents that love you._"

I swallowed. "_Don't,_" I said to him. "_Don't talk to me like it's the last time._"

"_That's the thing…_" he then said, glancing down, and then at me, enough ache and burning regret in his eyes, that I could have sworn someone had used the _cruciatus curse_ on him — leaving a shadow of the man I had once known, taking his face and his mannerisms and masking them under a cold, white veil. "_I love you, so fucking much, that it physically hurts to be here without you,_" he whispered, voice shaking. " — _but — but I can't hold you back anymore. I can't let you waste your life away, hovering at my bedside, when you should be out, living, laughing, falling in love, traveling, everything that someone as brilliant and as kind and as mind-numbingly beautiful as you, should be doing._"

"_No…_" I choked out, shaking my head, leaning back. "_No, no…You're not…You're not doing this…You're not…You're not…_"

"_I am,_" he countered. "_ — I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm sorry. I really am._"

From this point, an overwhelming force took over, clearing the ache from me, and replacing it with righteous anger. "_You know what?_" I asked him. "_Fuck you, Theo. Fuck you, and your logic, and your disease, and your inexplicable need to push me away. Do you not think it's occurred to me, several times already, that I could walk away from this situation and never return, that the door is always open for me?_" I furthered, breathing hard, eyes wild. "_I could have left you the moment I found out you were ill. I could have packed my things and left without saying a word — but I didn't. Do you know why?_" I asked. "_Because I fucking love you, and you can take that honourable, I'm-setting-you-free bullshit and shove it right up your arse. I cry for you, yes, but please, don't ever mistake those tears as tears of weakness._"

From this point, I stared between his eyes, aware that mine were bloodshot from how fast and hard the tears were falling down my face.

"_I'm not weak,_" I said to him, whispering, feeling the anger that flooded my veins simmer to a slow, even pace, as he brought me into his arms. "_I'm not weak…_"

"_I know,_" he told me, stroking my hair, blinking the emotion from his own eyes. "_I know you're not weak. You're strong. You're passionate. You're a little terrifying at times,_" he smiled. "_But even the strongest, most passionate people can be eclipsed by darkness. I don't want that to happen to you. I don't want you to cry for me._"

"_Wait —_" I said, struggling, fumbling, hurriedly wiping the tears from my eyes and cheeks, as I reached into my pocket and handed him something. "_This — This will help you. I — I came here to tell you about him, about Atticus Grant. I —_"

Nott swallowed hard, reading the print. "_Where did you get this?_"

"_I met him at the Gala. I — I know it's a long shot but —_"

"_Hermione,_" he interjected, looking at me, eyes narrow. "_Do you know how many Atticus Grant's I've met? Do you know how many people have promised me — and my father, for that matter — a life without disease? Do you?_"

I opened my mouth to say something, to object, to explain to him that I had researched Atticus Grant and that he was making progress in his research to do with Arcturus Disease. I had to say something. I couldn't sit there, listen to him, silent and still, without saying something.

Say something, you stupid girl.

Nott crumpled the card, and I watched with fresh tears in my eyes, as though his last life line had been tossed into the fire.

"_This is what I feared would happen,_" he said to me. "_That someone would make a fool out of you, the way they did to me when I was a child, trying to save my father. I'll tell you something about men like Atticus Grant. They prey on people like me and people like you,_" he explained, pointing to me. "_It's all empty, broken promises masked in the guise of a cure — a cure that _**_does not exist_**_._"

"_Theo…_" I breathed, reaching for him. "_I never meant to upset you. All I wanted to do was help._"

Nott breathed in and then out, calming his nerves. "_You can't help, that's the point._"

I could feel my lips begin to tremble. "_Then what am I supposed to do?_"

"_Leave,_" he voiced, as though that single word were enough to unbind my every waking thought from him, that it would free me from dreaming about him, praying for him, hoping, crying, shouting, quaking. "_Leave me, Granger. Leave me before I leave you._"

"_No…no…_"

I released several staggered breaths, trying desperately to think of something, to be the strong, smart witch everyone thought me to be, and convince him out of this. It hurt, more than I could ever have imagined, hearing those words come from his mouth — to me. I moved towards him and kissed him, and for a moment, he did kiss me back, as though he couldn't help himself, as though doing that brought him as much life as it brought me.

But he eventually let go, and in that time, another pair of hands found me. I looked back and found Madam Pomfrey, with deep, deep concern in her eyes and a couple security officers that had been stationed at the school since the Battle of Hogwarts — for extra protection.

"_I'm afraid you need to leave, Miss Granger._"

I narrowed my eyes, drenched in disbelief. "_Poppy, what are you talking about?_"

"_Please,_" she said to me, helping me up, ridden with remorse. "_Harry is here to see you home._"

"_Harry? Why is he here?_" I demanded, stumbling backwards as one of the security officers took me by the arm. "_Hey — don't you dare touch me! Someone, please, tell me what's going on?!_"

"_You're trespassing on Hogwarts property, and if you don't co-operate with us, we will be forced to hand you to the authorities,_" the other officer said.

I laughed at this, maddened with anger and confusion and hurt. "_I _**_am _**_the authority, you bint!_"

"_Hermione,_" the school nurse interrupted, speaking calmly, clasping her hand over mine, as I reached for my wand. "_Your visitor status has been revoked._"

It came over me in large, crashing tidal waves, causing me to lose my balance and fall back, sliding to the floor with my eyes on _him. _"_This was planned?_" I asked, as several hands lifted me from the floor. "_Ginny told you I was coming, didn't she? I — I knew I shouldn't have told her! I — I —_"

"_I'm sorry,_" were the first words to come from his mouth, as he watched me being dragged out of the Hospital Wing, a pained look in his eyes, one that would haunt me forever, though not nearly as much as what he said next.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: ...**

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N: Chapter Thirty-Nine! I'll post something either today or tomorrow, involving Hermione's breakup with Nott and why he took such an extreme route. Look for it in my blog. Link in my bio. Also (because I know people will ask about it after reading this chapter) we have not seen the last of him. **

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><p>And, now, a moment of silence for all the tumultuous breakups, mascara tears and 90's ballads that shaped me into the woman I am today.<p>

Sad and alone.

Kidding.

I mean, I am alone and I am sad (on occasion) but those characteristics are not in direct correlation with one another. Well, they kind of are, but the feminist in me would beg to differ. Also, I've had some wine. _Shocker._

Life Lesson #1: Finding a significant other should not be endgame, and should not, under any circumstances, be ones source for happiness and fulfillment.

Something I learned (the hard, humiliating way) was _relationships are fleeting_. It's true, feelings and memories remain, but people do not — and I don't mean that in a depressing, existential sense. It works more as a coping mechanism than anything else. Once I accepted the fact that my friendships and relationships were not set in stone, the weight of what happened had lessened — minute after painful minute.

I could breathe again.

Life Lesson #2: Chocolate heals all wounds.

Life Lesson #3: Casual sex does not.

**_One Year Later _**

I hated morning people — with deep, blinding passion.

I hated their bright, bubbly personalities and their penchant for smalltalk. _Merlin,_ the sheer number of times I'd been forced to endure conversation before the stroke of six.

More than anything, I hated the fact that I used to be one of them.

It's a little redundant to say — since, well, _you know_ — but things had changed. I'd never felt so unlike myself, so unhinged and so comfortable with it. I woke up at a reasonable hour (instead of five in the morning, as I used to do) and I made sure to travel at least once a month — if even for the weekend. My new responsibilities at the Auror Office made this possible. I dealt with cases all around the country, head on, in place of Harry as he was a new father and wished to be home with his family should his schedule permit it.

I understood his disposition (and envied it, from time to time) but I felt, more than that, that I simply wished to _leave_.

It took me six months to gather the courage to go back to the house in Puddlemere and pack my belongings. Even then, Daphne had to be there, helping me through it — and because she's ace, she went ahead and did the work. I simply sat there, in the lounge, glancing around like a lost puppy, whilst she bustled in and out of the room with her wand out, directing various items (such as clothing, books and other belongings of mine) into boxes.

In the six months that followed, I managed to settle into the same flat I had shared with Ginny — prior to her marriage.

It was bizarre being back there, but I needed a place to say — a home. I had been moving in and out of various hotels, within London and sometimes further, and although it was refreshing to be alone, free to cry as I pleased…I knew I had to move on and I had to do so without taking advantage of my friends. Both Ginny and Daphne made it clear that I was welcome to stay with them, at their respective houses, offers to which I kindly declined, as I knew they were worried and also, for my own ego.

I wasn't a teenager — not anymore. I was twenty-seven-years-old and more than capable of looking after myself.

That in mind, I moved into that flat, into that same bedroom, and simply sat there the first night, reminded of everything that had happened on that very bed.

But even those feelings were difficult to place.

It was a different lifetime.

From there, the wine kicked in, as it did most nights.

Mornings, however…

I had a routine.

I rose from bed, showered, brushed my teeth, dried my hair, dressed in clothes, had a spot of breakfast (consisting of granola and sometimes English pancakes, on the rare occasion that I rose early enough to make them) and went straight to work. In the office, I was usually bombarded with stacks upon stacks of paperwork, most of which I was too paranoid to hand off to an assistant. I would then spend the next three or four hours handling said paperwork and prioritizing between other, more important responsibilities (such as attending hearings and putting criminals behind bars) after which I would return to my office and realize it was an hour after lunch. _Damn, missed it again. _From there, I would slow down a little, ignoring the gentle, sometimes aggressive rumble of my stomach and power through the rest of the day, which usually consisted of more hearings and more paperwork, and the occasional arrest.

Then there were was that one week, every month, wherein Harry would send me to some obscure location with a group of Junior Aurors. Our instructions were simple. Detain the criminal without alerting Muggles that we were magic folk. I was given free reign to do as I pleased, which was obvious damage control on Harry's part, as I still hadn't forgiven him for his involvement in what happened. His wife was no exception.

Little James, on the other hand, was the cutest, chubbiest, most adorable blob I had ever seen.

I made frequent stops at the baby shop near my flat, and made sure to purchase a wide variety of clothing and toys, ones that I knew would annoy Harry and Ginny. The louder and the more buttons, the better. Don't judge! It was all in good fun, and they took it in stride. Plus, James loved me for it. I was, without a doubt, his favourite aunt.

His first word was _my-knee_.

Think about it.

Sound it out.

Ah, there we go!

Now that we're all caught up, I'll move on to what happened in March of that same year — 2007.

**_Three Broomsticks _**

Daphne and the gang congregated in our old hangout, on an evening we were sure students wouldn't be lurking, in order to celebrate Ron's twenty-seventh birthday. I smiled, proud of him and the fact that he had, finally, proposed to Daphne and put that gorgeous ring on her finger. Due to my hectic work schedule, I hadn't been there to witness the proposal, but Astoria assured me it was _sickeningly romantic._

Strange that she should be my closest female friend during this phase of my life — but I found it increasingly difficult to be around Daphne and Ginny, as their priorities were so different from mine. Ginny had child to look after and planned to have another. Daphne was in a similar situation, with wedding planning and things of that nature. I found, quite suddenly, that I had nothing in common with them — not anymore.

Astoria, however, was on my wavelength.

"_What d'you reckon he's packing under those trousers?_" she asked me, tossing one look at Shen Chang.

I gaped at her, stifling the fit of laughter that tickled my throat. "_First of all, he's an eighteen-year-old boy. Second…_" I looked at him, tilting my head to the side for a brief moment. "_You know what — no. You're not corrupting me._"

She laughed, knocking back another drink. "_Admit it. You're into him. Just a little._"

"_I'm _**_not _**_into him._"

"_Into whom?_" Blaise asked, slipping into our conversation.

Astoria pointed to the young, Hogwarts graduate.

I should explain.

Shen was there as one of Daphne's guests, having taken the Healer route, and made the decision to attend Healer School in London, as opposed to Hong Kong, where his Aunt Cho had gone to complete her education. As it turned out, Daphne had interviewed him during his application process into the London School of Healing and was so impressed with him, that she insisted on mentoring him and that he join her team during his residency — not for another couple years.

Blaise looked at him, a firm arch in his brow. "_Isn't he twelve?_"

"_Yes — No —_" both myself and Astoria said in response, respectively.

I looked at her then, with obvious disdain. "_You're a terrible influence._"

"_Oh, quit being such a prude_," she scoffed at me, with that familiar up-to-no-good look in her eyes. "_I think you should go over there and talk to him._"

"_ — about what?_" the musician furthered, amused.

I tapped my chin, pretending to think. "_An abundance of things, such as…the latest generation of Pokémon or his favourite meal on the McDonald's kids menu, or —_"

" — _Poké what?_" both Blaise and Astoria interjected.

"_Muggle thing,_" I quickly explained. "_Point is, he's too young._"

Astoria rolled her eyes. "_You're no fun._"

I smiled, sipping my butterbeer.

"_What about him?_" she then asked, pointing across the room — to Charlie. "_Merlin knows he's been sneaking looks at you all night._"

For no apparent reason, I followed her line of vision and found him, standing there, chatting with Harry and Ginny about Merlin knows what, with butterbeer in one hand and little James in the other. It was odd that my friends trusted him (more of a klutz than Ron had ever been) with their child, but from what I could see, he did know how to hold a baby, providing ample neck support and the whole nine.

Strange.

I downed the remainder of my drink, in the sudden mood for something alcoholic.

"_Go on,_" Astoria encouraged, shooting me a quick wink. " — _before some random bint snatches him up._"

I ignored her suggestive inserts with a smooth smile and looked across the venue, at him, as he returned James to his parents and fell into comfortable silence, on his own, drink in hand. It went without saying that Charlie was the friendliest, most interesting of the Weasley men — but I had never looked at him as anything more than Ron and Ginny's older brother. To me, he was Charlie Weasley, _the one that worked with dragons. _I knew close to nothing about him, other than the fact that he liked animals and used to be Seeker for House Gryffindor — before Harry.

In that moment, his eyes found mine and he smiled.

It was a friendly smile, nothing remotely suggestive or indicative that he wanted me in anything other than an appropriate, platonic capacity. For all I could tell, he still viewed me as the bushy-haired Head Girl that bossed his youngest brother around. I had no idea what was going through his head — but for some reason, I wanted to find out.

I returned his smile and waved to him, surprised when he tilted his head, as though he were motioning for me to come over.

"_Ball's in your court, Granger…_" Blaise added, now in agreement with Astoria and her merciless goading.

I should explain that the pair of them were now dating, after months upon months of maintaining their _friends with benefits _status. It was a good thing, too, because I was sure those situations never turned out well. Surprisingly, Blaise was the one to initiate their newfound exclusivity. I was proud of both of them for being so brave and willing, as catching feelings for a friend was a tough thing to handle. Should the relationship turn bad, not only do you lose a significant other — but a friend as well.

Something that should be a permanent fixture. Right?

For a moment, I closed my eyes, ignoring the emotion that thrashed within my chest, before rising from the table and making my way to other side of the pub — to Charlie.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thoughts? **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N: Chapter Forty!**

* * *

><p>I could feel both Harry and Ron toss looks at me and then at one another, as I made my way to Charlie from across the pub. It meant nothing. I was going over, as he had motioned, simply to chat and perhaps learn something about him that I didn't hear from a third party. Until then, I hadn't realized that I had never spoken to him one-on-one. There was always someone else there, either Ron or Ginny or Harry.<p>

But this time, there was only me.

"_Hello,_" he smiled, pulling out a stool for me. "_How are you?_"

I sat beside him, and ordered a glass of wine. "_Good, good. It's been ages — hasn't it?_"

Charlie nodded, taking a sip from his butterbeer, as my wine arrived. "_I don't think I've seen you since…_" His voice trailed off, as he remembered what happened at Harry and Ginny's wedding.

I glanced down, laughing. "_Right. Not one of my finer moments._"

"_Minor curveball,_" he shrugged, laid back as ever, still smiling. "_Best to take those in stride._"

"_I couldn't agree more._"

From there, we slipped into discussion about his work with dragons in Romania, as well as my own work at the Auror Office. It was nice having a mature, adult discussion without the added tension of either being in a relationship or trying to get laid. I quite liked Charlie. I liked that he talked to me as though I were a human being and not some caricature of the media. I liked that everything I was telling him, he took in, as we were getting to know one another with clean slates.

More than anything, I liked that he was nice because he simply was, not because he was overcompensating like the others. Merlin knew I had been through enough this past year, and although I appreciated my friends rallying around me and supporting me, I was beginning to suffocate under the weight of their concern.

It still hurt, as much as it hurt the day it happened, if not more. I was nowhere near fine, but I was getting there…slowly. If I could have had one moment, one moment to look back and feel something other than intense, mind numbing pain and shame and worst of all, emptiness, maybe then the wounds would have healed.

I suppose those emotions showed on my face, as the evening progressed, seeing as Charlie eventually voiced the thoughts that I knew had been circulating his mind since our conversation began.

"_Whomever he is,_" the older wizard started. " — _he'll come around sooner or later and if he doesn't, forget about him. Simple as that._"

"_Am I that transparent?_" I asked, planting an arch in my brow.

"_Nah,_" he winked. "_You're Gryffindor. You wear your heart on your sleeve like the best of us._"

I smiled at this, despite the ache in my chest. "_Can't argue that._"

"_Besides,_" he added. "_The way I see it…if my clumsy arse can survive a Hungarian Horntail attack, then anyone, anywhere can make it through a breakup._"

"_When did that happen?_" I asked, caught somewhere between a gasp and a laugh, clinging to the former half of his statement.

Charlie laughed, too, setting down his butterbeer, having opted out of alcohol for the evening, as he had work early in the morning, and rolled up his sleeves. "_Scars to prove it,_" he said to me, displaying a large, shiny, burn-like scar along his right forearm and then an actual chunk of flesh missing from his left. I should mention that it was a small chunk — but still.

"_Merlin!_" I blinked, astounded. "_How do you go back to work after something like that?_"

"_Just because something is difficult — and in my case, may lead to scarring and/or serious injury — doesn't mean it's not worth doing,_" he reasoned. "_If I don't look after those dragons, who will?_"

His words resonated with me, speaking truths I had hidden away months ago — a year, perhaps. It was difficult to tell, as time went on. Everything sort of blurred into one tangled mess, and the longer I spent trying to sort through those emotions, the worse it felt to know my efforts had been cast aside.

Charlie eyed me then, sensing a change in my demeanour. "_You okay?_"

"_I'm good,_" were the only words to come from my mouth, as I masked the feelings that had been ricocheting within me for — I can't even remember how long. From there, I sensed a shift in our conversation. I looked at Charlie, his smile, his casual, easy going philosophies, his calm nature. It was comforting, being around someone like that. Part of me had forgotten what it was like, speaking to a normal, charming and uncomplicated person.

I waited for his eyes to fall on me — bright blue, in contrast with his red hair and the freckles that decorated his cheeks and nose, and even his neck, as I had noticed.

There were numerous voices in the back of my mind, voices that tried their best to hold me back and convince me this wasn't the right solution.

But I wasn't looking for a solution.

I was looking for an escape.

For once, the bottom of a wine bottle didn't fit the bill.

I leaned closer to Charlie, aware that our friends were in the same vicinity and that a couple of them had been tossing glances in our direction for most of the evening, but I wouldn't let their judgment stop me.

"_Hermione —_" he froze, snapping me out of my daze, with alarm in his eyes. I leaned back, startled. "_What are you doing?_" he demanded. "_What was that?_"

"_I — I —_" The words wouldn't come out. I was sat there, still as a statue, forcing my eyes closed as though it would remove me from the moment.

Charlie swallowed hard, worried lines along his forehead. "_You're my brother's ex-girlfriend. I wouldn't. I couldn't. I'm sorry if I sent you the wrong signals but —_"

" — _It's fine,_" I interjected, visibly embarrassed. "_No need to explain._" I tossed him a quick smile, before sliding off the stool and making motion to leave, doing my absolute best to ignore the hammering against my ribcage.

"_Wait —_" he said to me, seconds after I turned.

I paused.

Charlie rose from his stool. "_Maybe we should talk about this,_" he said to me, only then realizing both Ron and Harry were eavesdropping, far enough that they could not hear what we were saying, but close enough to know something was going on. "_In private —_" he added. "_If that's okay with you._"

"_In private?_" I repeated.

He nodded.

**_Five Minutes Later _**

I stumbled into the loo with him, tugging at his plaid shirt, as he tugged on the skirt of my dress, lifting me up, onto the ledge of the sink. It wasn't the mature, adult conversation I had imagined, nor did it support the earlier rejection, but I wasn't about to complain. I tilted my head back, blinded by the fire burning within me, the fire that surged through my bloodstream and gave me life.

He kissed me a bit, brushing his hands along my face time after time, but one of those voices, the ones I had described earlier, held me back. I turned my head away from him whenever he tried, wanting nothing but release. I didn't have feelings for him. I didn't love him. I didn't even know him.

There was no need for kissing.

There was no need to pretend we cared for one another, when we clearly did not.

Sensing this, he refocused his kisses to my neck, during which time I undid his belt buckle, ready for him, spreading my legs.

He then reached under the skirts of my dress, curving his hand around my panties and making motion to slide them off — before it hit me.

"_Stop —_" I said to him, leaning back. "_Stop._"

Charlie froze, startled, flicking his eyes at me. "_What's wrong?_"

I covered my face with both hands, uncertain as to where this onslaught of emotion had come from. From there, he helped me from the sink, onto both feet, keeping his distance from me as I tried to regain composure. Around thirty seconds later, I opened my eyes and noticed he'd re-buckled his belt, though his shirt was still unbuttoned all the way down, revealing a network of scars along his muscular torso.

"_I — I'm sorry —_" I told him. "_I can't do this. I — I can't._"

"_It's okay,_" he assured me, reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, frozen as I recoiled. "_I've been sending you mixed signals all night. It's my fault._"

I shook my head. "_No, it's not you. I just — I can't explain. I have to go._"

With that, I left the loo, wiping the smudged lipstick from around my mouth and making minor adjustments to my clothes and hair, before stepping out, where the rest of the party continued. Charlie had enough decency to wait a couple minutes before following me out, during which time I exchanged one look with Ginny, one that directed her towards me.

She kissed Harry on the cheek and handed him their son, before making her way across the pub and following me to a secluded corner.

"_Is everything okay?_" she asked me, concern in her eyes.

I swallowed. "_Everything is fine. I'm just — I forgot I have some paperwork to do. I — I should get going._"

Ginny exhaled, pausing a moment before pulling me in for a tight hug, as though she knew, as though, despite our distance this past year, she had always known. "_I promise you, you'll be okay. It hurts right now, I know it does, but you'll find a way to make it through this, and I'll be there with you every step of the way,_" she told me, separating, long enough to wipe the tears from my eyes with James' spit up cloth — using the part without spit up on it. "_I'm sorry for what happened, and I know there's nothing I can say to justify what went down in that Hospital Wing, but I want you to know something. He —_"

" — _Please,_" I interjected, squeezing my eyes closed, holding back the moisture that threatened to fall. "_Don't talk about him. Don't speak his name. Don't mention him at all,_" I begged, heart pounding against my ribcage like a rabid animal. "_Just — Just don't._"

She blinked, ignoring the tears that slid down her own face, wiping mine, again. It was difficult, being without her deep, unyielding friendship this past year. "_Stay in Godric's Hollow tonight, with me and Harry. Please._"

I smiled weakly. "_I'd love to…but I can't. I have to get used to this…_"

Ginny nodded then, disappointment in her eyes, as well as understanding. "_Owl me if you need _**_anything_**_, okay?_"

"_I will._"

Finally, she returned my smile and pulled me in for another hug, one that told me we weren't just friends — we were family.

**_Two Hours Later _**

I returned to my flat, grabbing the nearest kitchen utensil — which turned out to be a metal spatula — and used it to eat ice cream straight from the container. Sure, it would have been nice to have casual, no-strings-attached sex and give my body the release it so desperately craved, but I couldn't do that. I couldn't hurt myself like that — not again. I couldn't add to the stress and the ache and the confusing mix of emotions that bombarded me day in and day out.

Instead, I slipped into the shadows of my flat and ate that ice cream, crying a little — a lot, depending on whether you believe me — and listening to strong, powerful feminist anthems that should have lifted my spirits.

But none of those things worked.

There _was_ one thing, one thing I did on nights like this, one thing to release, one thing to help me breathe again, one thing to detangle the emotions that wore down on me day after day, one thing to stop myself from letting go.

I set down the ice cream, now dressed in footed pyjamas, and made my way to the desk situated in the corner of the lounge. It was dim, which prompted me to light the candle I had placed on the smooth, mahogany surface. I did, and watched as the ink and parchment before me were immersed in the orange glow of the candlelight.

From there, I slipped into the chair and dipped my quill into a pot of ink, feeling my hand shake as the tip hovered over the parchment I had laid out, marking it with a drop of black.

No one knew about this.

It was my secret.

It was my escape.

I breathed in, doing the best I could to gather the thoughts and emotions that raced through my mind and my heart, and proceeded to write them down. It was difficult, getting the words right. I tossed several sheets of parchment into the waste bin and scratched out several lines until one line — one measly line — embodied it all.

_Fuck you, for being everything and nothing so flawlessly._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thoughts? **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	41. Chapter 41

**A/N: Chapter Forty-One!**

* * *

><p>Here's the thing:<p>

The last time I had a one night stand, I, in the most cliched sense, became attached and because of that, vowed never to have a random hookup again. I mean, most single, career-driven women my age would probably have been with at least fifteen or sixteen men — whereas I had been with four.

I had every right to go out there and knock boots with the best of them.

But I couldn't.

But I wanted to.

But I couldn't.

But I did.

**_Seven Months Later _**

It was October, which meant the leaves were changing colours and the nights grew longer. I quite liked October. I liked bundling up in scarves and enormous coats. It made me feel protected, not only from the cold but from everything else. I found it easier to blend in with the greater public under various layers of clothing.

That in mind, I entered the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and made a bee line for the Auror Office, located on the second level of the Ministry. It was a quiet morning, as most people had already thrown themselves into their work. I, on the other hand, had woken up late. Though, for some reason, I didn't panic the way I usually did, after having made such a massive, irreversible mistake.

If there was one thing I could've said about myself, it's that I was never late.

"_Hermione, thank Merlin you're here!_" Sinead hurriedly entered my office, having noticed me in the corridor and closed the door behind her.

I set down my things, tossing her a curious look. Sinead, as I had predicted, joined the Auror Office as soon as she graduated from Hogwarts and, as I had hoped, was more than willing to join the task force Head Auror Potter had appointed to me. It was nice having another woman in the Department, as there were so few.

Sinead paced the office, breathing in and out, muttering things under her breath.

"_Something wrong?_" I voiced, breaking her concentration.

She swallowed hard and then looked at me, dark circles under her eyes, as well as a certain birds nest look about her hair. "_I think I'm pregnant._"

**_Fifteen Minutes Later _**

If there was one thing I had learned from my own scare roughly nine years ago, it was _keep the questions to a minimum. _I did that, and traveled through London, with Sinead, straight to St. Mungo's. It would probably have fared better, time-wise, to pop into one of the shops and purchase one of those disposable pregnancy tests — but something else I had learned from my own scare, was that those things were far too nerve wracking to handle. Plus, they were usually inaccurate.

I sat with Sinead in the Healer's office, and waited, noting the manner in which her hands had been shaking since she told me.

"_This — This is so embarrassing,_" she voiced, squeezing her eyes shut, humiliated and scared and everything an eighteen-year-old girl should have been, due to such serious circumstances. "_I'm so sorry for involving you. I just — I didn't know what else to do and —_"

"_Sinead,_" I interjected, thoughtful. "_There's nothing to be embarrassed about. I'm honoured you felt comfortable enough to come to me._"

Her bottom lip twitched, as though she were trying to smile but couldn't muster the courage. "_Please don't tell anyone._"

"_Don't worry,_" I said to her, feeling like more of an adult than I had since nagging Harry and Ron during our school days. "_No one will hear it from me._"

It was difficult, being there, watching her unravel under the pressure of what those results could be. I felt for her. She was a bright, brilliant witch with the world at her fingertips, and, yet, there she was, victim to biology, as I had once been. Men had it simple. Have sex as much as possible, and, in the end, humiliate your partner by demanding a paternity test — or simply, vanish off the face of the planet.

Men didn't have to carry the evidence around for nine months. Men weren't judged for their experiences. Men were applauded.

"_You're probably wondering about the father…_" Sinead vocalized, shooting a look at me that answered the question in my mind. "_…maybe why he isn't here._"

I could've cried for her, right then. "_Does he know?_"

She glanced down a moment, and then shook her head, once. "_I need those results before I can tell him. I need to know for sure._"

I understood her disposition, and although I was more than willing to help, during such a confusing, difficult time, I couldn't help but wonder about the father. To my knowledge, she had no boyfriend and rarely, if ever, went on dates. She had more than a few admirers at the office, but none of them sparked her interest. Last I had checked, she was holding out for someone in particular.

Both of us looked to the door, as it swung open.

"_Sinead? Sinead! Oh, my God — there you are!_"

A tall, dark-haired gentleman, dressed in clothes that would suggest he worked as a banker or something practical, entered Healer Greengrass' office and wrapped his arms around Sinead, practically suffocating her under the pressure of his embrace. If I were forced to venture a guess, I would've pegged this man to be the _illusive father_ we had been discussing not a moment ego — and the second I caught a look at his face, I recognized him.

It appeared he was in remission.

Sinead separated from him, the moment she remembered I was there. "_Why are you here? How did know where to find me? What — What's going on?_"

Corvus opened his mouth, words caught on his tongue. "_I was at the bank and then I heard from someone that works here —_"

"_Shen,_" the young woman interjected, arms folded. "_Go on._"

"_Yes, Shen —_" he confirmed. "_Shen owled me saying you bustled into St. Mungo's with your boss and I — I thought you might've been hurt on a mission or — or — I don't know. I just — I panicked and got here as soon as I could and created a huge fuss at reception until they told me where you were but — but it looks like Shen was mistaken and that you aren't hurt — are you?_"

Sinead didn't speak a word, for about a minute, adding to the tension in the room, before looking to her surprise visitor. "_I'm not hurt._"

"_Then what's wrong?_" Corvus asked, hesitating.

I stared between them, rising from my chair. "_I'll — erm — I'll give you two some privacy._"

"_Thank you,_" Sinead said to me, able to smile this time around. "_For everything._"

"_No problem,_" I assured her, then redirecting my attention on Corvus and without an ounce of doubt, flashed him a warning look, a look that told him I would have his arse under fire if he mistreated her in any way, shape or form.

**_Four Hours Later _**

Back in the office, there were rumours spreading about the reason behind mine and Sinead's swift exit earlier in the morning — but none of them were true. I, against more than a few rules, decided to give her the day, even though the results came in and were negative. She was not pregnant. Just late.

Though, from the manner in which Corvus had surged into St. Mungo's, panicked and worried and there for her, something told me they were probably recreating the events that led up to her little scare.

Amused and a little tired, I continued to sift through paperwork.

"_Hermione?_"

I glanced to the door, expecting to see Sinead or Harry, and shocked to find Ron. It appeared he had come straight from the _Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes_, where he now worked, as he was dressed in their purple apron and had confetti stuck in his hair. I motioned for him to enter, surprised, and waited as he closed the door.

"_Another ring for me to try on?_" I asked, joking.

Ron cracked a smile at this and dragged a chair, seated across from me. "_Just here to make a delivery,_" he said, handing me a package. "_An Eagle Owl flew into mine and Daphne's kitchen this morning, and dropped this. It has your name on it._"

I shifted my attention to the package in his hands — a large rectangular box — and arched an eyebrow. "_ — and do you know who sent it?_"

He shrugged. "_No note. Nothing. Just your name._"

"_Strange,_" I remarked.

"_D'you think it's jinxed or something?_"

"_Could be,_" I shrugged, withdrawing my wand, performing several anti-jinx spells to realize the package was not jinxed — simply anonymous. "_Should I open it?_"

Ron nodded, reminding me of his younger, adolescent self, eager to see the random things delivered to Harry during our time at Hogwarts. He leaned over, practically on the edge of his seat, undoubtedly expecting something great, perhaps an ancient artefact or one of those vintage wizarding record players that Bill and Fleur had in their home or a shrunken broomstick or a highly coveted spell book or — _anything other than what was really inside._

He grimaced. "_A dress? I sprinted all the way here from Diagon Alley to give you a dress?_"

I lifted the garment from the box and tissue and ribbons and spread it out, standing with it. It was a draped bustier gown, vintage rose, silk chiffon, beaded line around the middle to gather the fabric around the waist, something particular to my shape and size. I breathed in, a little dazed, until laying eyes on the card inside the box.

"_I'll give it to him,_" Ron admitted, folding his arms. "_He's trying._"

The card, as I soon came to realize, was marked with the initials DM.

I wasn't surprised. How could I be surprised? Was there anyone, apart from Draco Malfoy, with both the means and the fashion sense?

Still, I scrunched my mouth, confused. It made no sense to me that he would gift me something so gorgeous and and so expensive and so irreversibly tailored to my measurements, without a reason. It made even less sense that he would send it to Ron and Daphne, instead of me.

That's when I had a proper look at the card.

_Your driver will arrive in the evening. _

_DM_

Ron scoffed at this. "_Someone's looking to get laid._"

**_Four Hours Later_**

I didn't know what to expect. I didn't know where I was headed, only that I had, against my better judgement, gone home, dressed in the gown, struggled with my hair and makeup for about an hour, only to be whisked across London in an _Aston Martin _and taken to a hanger, where there was a private plane — waiting for _me_ —destined for Paris.

It had been ages since the last time I'd been on a plane, and the first time I had ever been on a private one.

I was nervous, so nervous that I couldn't take full advantage of the perks — and do trust me when I say there were tons.

Needless to mention, I drowned my nervousness in a quick shot of vodka, downing one of those tiny bottles and feeling my nerves begin to settle.

Later into the journey, the plane arrived in Paris, where another driver was waiting for me, a smile on his face and an adorable French accent that made me feel like I was living in a fairytale.

Let me assure you, the surprises were far from over.

I had my eyes glued to the window, as the limousine drove through the sights and sounds of Paris. The driver, a man called Louis, spoke through the intercom and highlighted various attractions, providing a mini tour for me before another smartly dressed man opened the car door, as we arrived at the set destination, and ushered me into what I remembered was _Carrousel du Louvre. _

It was a shopping centre in Paris — not the typical shopping centre that I was used to back at home, but a magnificent, beautifully designed shopping centre, home to the breathtaking inverted pyramid, made famous by _The Da Vinci Code. _

I did nothing but follow the man, called Gerard, noticing several posters and signs that would indicate there was an event being held there. Gerard's pace was a little on the faster side, which made it difficult for me to get a good look at those posters but I eventually did.

From there, the truth settled in.

It was Paris Fashion Week.

More than that, I had front row seats to the closing show.

I swallowed hard, following Gerard as he ushered me inside, and then sat there, in the midst of some of the most important people in the industry, as well as various entertainment moguls. I recognized countless faces, but none of them recognized me, as I was Hermione Granger, an Auror.

Before I knew it, the show began.

There was music and lights.

I absorbed it. I absorbed everything, the sounds and the visuals and the models as one by one, they walked on the runway, dressed in Christian Dior's designs. For a moment, I was surprised, expecting a lesser known designer. It made no sense that I should have seats to Christian Dior — right?

"_Nice dress,_" someone whispered to me, slipping into the seat beside mine.

I turned.

Dressed in black, with his blonde hair messily coiffed and his smooth, smoky grey eyes washing over me, was Draco Malfoy. I returned his smile, nudging him for his cheeky comment, before watching him watch on. I knew that look. It was a look of hopefulness, as though he hoped to one day have his own designs premiere at Paris Fashion Week.

I smiled deeper then, and sat with him, aware that our hands brushed together here and there, and that a long forgotten sensation erupted within me whenever they did.

Soon, the show was over and there were dozens of after parties to attend, but Draco didn't take me to those. Instead, we went to a restaurant, one I remembered from the last time I had been to Paris. It was expensive and had a thousand of those tiny dishes that I loved to hate. I looked to him every now and then, expecting him to say something, to explain why he dressed me in one of his designs and whisked me from London to Paris.

But he didn't say anything.

Instead, he smiled at me, catching my curious looks, ordering us dessert and being completely unlike himself.

This was not the Draco Malfoy I had grown used to.

This was not the Draco Malfoy to tease me in Benoit's dress shop nor the one to _hit it and quit it_ as the children loved to say.

This was not the Draco Malfoy to send me that preposterous letter.

But the longer I looked at him, the more I realized.

He was older, and so was I.

His eyes crossed mine, and finally, I said something.

"_Thank you,_" I told him, holding his gaze. "_I — I'm not sure why you did this but — but thank you._"

Draco smiled at me then, with his eyes and his lips. "_I like being around you._"

"_You like being around me?_"

He nodded, as though it were simple, as though it had always been simple; for him, anyway.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Does he have ulterior motives, or does he simply enjoy being in her company?**

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	42. Chapter 42

**A/N: Chapter Forty-Two! **

* * *

><p>I followed him inside, pausing as we entered his Parisian flat.<p>

It was smaller than the one in Manhattan, but larger than mine by a long shot. From there, we fell into a comfortable silence, moving to his lounge. It was very modern, with contrasts between black and white, and neutral toned furniture. I'm sure it had cost him a fortune, but the best fixture in his flat, was the large, landscape window. I stood there, as he uncorked a bottle of wine and moved closer to me, watching the glistening, cobbled streets.

I knew I should have gone home, as I had work the next morning — not to mention a hearing that I had to attend — but I couldn't leave without demanding the truth.

I turned to him, startled as those eyes washed over me again and again.

It was a dangerous thing, being back with him, alone, in private.

There was a reason I had avoided such situations since he left for Manhattan. I did not and could not bring myself to call him out on his uncharacteristic behaviour. Part of me wondered if it was all a game, if this were a ruse. I'll admit, there was a small portion of my heart that was reserved for him — for the one who broke me without thinking twice about it, not to protect me but simply because he could. It was irrational and stupid to be there, but I couldn't leave.

"_Is this the part when we have sex and never speak again?_" I asked him, uncertain as to where those words had come from.

His composure deepened, without falter, as did the manner in which he stood near me, so close, so close. "_I didn't bring you here to have sex._"

"_No,_" I reasoned. "_ — but you're thinking about it._"

It was then, that something changed in his expression. His eyes narrowed, briefly, as though he were trying to understand the thoughts running through my mind, to no avail. It was a lose-lose situation, as not even I understood the thoughts running through my mind.

I swallowed hard, watching those eyes as they watched me; wondering what was hidden beneath; what he could possibly be thinking; if my instincts about him were correct and that he was undressing me with nothing but a look; ignoring the ache in me and replacing it with something else, something heated and unpredictable, as he leaned in, so close, so close.

"_Dance with me,_" he whispered, lips hovering over my left ear.

Around then, the tangle of emotions that had been holding me back, unraveled, bit by bit, and I allowed him to take me, by both hands, keeping an even amount of space between us as he used wandless magic to find the right track.

It started soft and rhythmic, an even beat accompanied by the ambiance that snuck in through the uncovered windows.

I found myself with him, in the centre of the lounge, hands around his neck and his along my hips. It wasn't like the dance at Harry and Ginny's wedding. It wasn't a choreographed piece that I was forced to remember. It was imperfect and intimate and everything I had feared since that night, alone, in my flat.

For some reason, I could sense that he was using me as much as I was using him, and that he knew, going into this, that we had one thing in common.

I faded into the dance, into the sway.

I didn't shed a tear, as I was all cried out, but being close to another person felt too much like home, too good to abandon. But that didn't change my skepticism about him and about this situation. If sex was what he wanted, or what he needed — then I would have preferred that he told me, like this, face-to-face, instead of in a letter, instead of whisking me across the English Channel, instead of dressing me in posh evening wear and showing me what it would be like to have him — knowing, deep down that I would never let it go that far.

Still, I faded deeper and deeper, resting my head against his chest, sliding my arms to his shoulders, as his found the small of my back.

It went on long after the song ended.

I listened to the ambiance and the sound of his heartbeat. It was more human than I had expected, as were his long, even breaths, the ones that tickled my forehead and stirred another one of those long forgotten sensations within me — as I leaned back and caught the look in his eyes.

There was no future with him.

But there was the night.

There was Paris.

There would always be Paris.

The words found my lips before I had the chance to stop them. It was all I could do to combat the look in his eyes and the feeling that hammered in my chest. "_Are you thinking about it now?_" I asked.

"_Are you?_" he echoed, fading into me, swaying with me, so close, so close.

I breathed in and then out, closing my eyes, imagining him, his hair darker and his eyes bluer. "_Yes,_" I voiced, shaping the word with my lips, feeling the weight of the world concentrate in and around my heart, as he kissed me.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Pay attention to the imagery in that last bit. Also, the song they were dancing to was "Fade Into You" by Mazzy Star. **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	43. Chapter 43

**A/N: Chapter Forty-Three!**

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><p><strong><em>One Week Later <em>**

"_Paris?_" Ginny asked, astounded.

I nodded, ignoring the arch in her brow and the way she folded her arms, as soon as she heard his name. "_Don't look at me like that. You're the one who told me to go out and see someone new._"

"_Draco Malfoy was not the person I had in mind,_" she retorted, matter-of-factly — as though my mother had possessed her. "_What did you do, anyway?_"

I thought back, from the beginning. London to Paris. _Carrousel du Louvre, _to the restaurant, to his flat. "_He arranged for us to view to the closing show at Paris Fashion Week, and then we had a bite._"

"_ — of each other?_"

" — _food,_" I voiced, tossing her a knowing look.

She mirrored that look, arms still folded, as we sat in her lounge with James asleep in his rocker. "_What happened after that?_"

In that moment, I faced the floor, knowing she could see right through me, as she usually did. "_After that, we went to his flat and had some wine, and then we danced a little, and then we kissed a little…_"

Ginny didn't respond.

Instead, she waited for me to continue, as though she knew the story wasn't over.

"_For some reason, I feel horrible about it,_" I explained. " — _like I used him, like I don't have it in me to properly be with someone —_"

Again, she didn't respond.

" _— and maybe I don't have it in me, after everything that has happened, but what does that mean?_"

"_It means you're human,_" she told me, speaking the truth, as though she were light years beyond her age. "_ — and although I admire your talent for seeing the best in people, maybe it's time to explore other options._"

I looked to her then. "_What do you mean?_"

"_Draco Malfoy doesn't deserve you,_" Ginny told me, flat-out. "_Yes, he showers you with gifts and whisks you to different countries, but if that's his idea of trying, then he clearly doesn't know the first thing about you, Hermione._"

I thought about what she said for a long time, thinking, pondering, asking the same questions, landing on the same blank spaces, as per usual, where he was concerned. It had been years since the dress shop run-in, and, still, there was so much I didn't know about him.

From there, the conversation fell into silence, as Ginny rose to lift little James from his rocker and situate him on her lap. I couldn't help but watch, envious that she had it sorted: beautiful son, beautiful marriage, beautiful home. If there were one person to know the ins and outs of relationships and romance, it was her — right?

Perhaps not.

Perhaps she was one of the lucky ones.

Perhaps she didn't have to work as hard as I did, at maintaining a relationship, because there was no more maintenance to be had. I thought about her life and her choices, and the sacrifices she made.

Ginny, once an accomplished athlete with a bright future, had been reduced to a shadow of her former self. She was no longer gracing magazine covers, nor was she traveling the world with her Quidditch team.

She had given up those dreams for another.

In realizing that, I realized something else.

I could never do that.

I could never bind myself to the idea of marriage, if it meant sacrificing myself and my dreams in the process.

"_Erm — Ginny?_"

The former Quidditch star scrunched her mouth with disdain, as she lifted her son's bottom to her face and took a whiff. "_Someone needs a change,_" she voiced, giving James a disciplinary look, before redirecting her attention to me. "_Sorry — did you say something?_"

I nodded, gathering my things and rising from the sofa. "_Just realized,_" I started — clearing my throat, trying desperately to think of something believable. "_I've got a ton of work to do. Speak tomorrow?_"

Ginny tossed me a knowing look. "_You're going to see him — aren't you?_"

I scoffed at this, aware that my cheeks and neck were beet red.

"_Hermione,_" she started, moving James to his changing table. "_I'm not trying to be a nuisance or anything, but I honestly don't see the point in entertaining so much as an evening with the man, when it's clear you're not right for each other._"

"_Well, I don't see why it's such a big deal to you,_" I countered, arms folded, feeling ridiculous as we were discussing this amid James' poopy nappies. "_First, you broke me up with — with one bloke because I was too invested. Now, you're telling me I'm not invested enough and should therefore steer clear. Please, Ginny, shed some light on the situation, as my peasant ears simply can't comprehend your logic —_" I took a deep breath then, uncertain as to where all of that had come from.

Ginny changed her son's nappies with care and concentration, though I could tell the wheels in her mind were turning, as those words left my mouth. "_I didn't break you up with anyone,_" she then said, slipping James into his onesie. "_I would never do that._"

" — _but you knew he was going to break up with me,_" I furthered, having tip-toed along the edge of this discussion for the past year. " — _and you didn't say anything because?_"

"_Fine —_" she decided, reaching her limit, setting James into his crib and turning to me, hands on her hips. "_You want to have that talk? Let's do it._" The stress lines on her forehead deepened. "_Nott owled Harry the night you left for New York and told him, he'd been losing his magic for months. That's why he wasn't home as much._"

My eyes widened, and I opened my mouth to say something but she cut me off.

"_ — I didn't know the details of their correspondence, as Harry kept me out of it at Nott's request, but I knew something was wrong,_" she voiced. "_That's why I owled Nott the morning you decided to see him and that's why I tried my absolute best to convince you not to go. I had no idea he planned on breaking up with you. Though, now that we're discussing it, I'm not sure I would have opposed the idea._"

I swallowed hard. "_Why?_"

"_Because he wasn't the only one losing sleep and dropping weight by the truckload —_" Ginny furthered, the fire in her eyes losing steam, replaced with deep, unyielding concern.

In that moment, my eyes found the floor. I couldn't look at her. I couldn't look at her, knowing she was right and that I had reached an unhealthy state during the ten months that I had spent — with _him_. I tried not to think about it as a bad thing, as I was due to lose some weight and could finally fit into my favourite pair of jeans — but there was no denying the obvious.

Ginny moved a little closer to me — tired, tired of arguing, tired of the stress this topic had placed on our friendship. "_I was worried about you, Hermione. Harry was worried, too. Yes, it was cruel to keep such a crucial piece of information from you, but it wasn't our secret to tell. I'm sorry for the way things happened. Believe me. I had no idea he would have your visitor status revoked. I was furious with him for a long time — and with Harry for his involvement — but really, what would you have done in Nott's position?_"

The thought had occurred to me — were the roles reversed, would I have acted the same? I knew the answer. I knew within seconds.

"_You're right,_" I decided. "_You're absolutely right._"

"_No —_" she countered. "_What I am, is sorry. I should have explained everything to you, the moment you returned from the Hospital Wing. I should have, but I didn't,_" she then voiced, searching through my eyes for understanding. "_I'd never seen you so heartbroken, Hermione. It terrified me to see you like that, and maybe that's the reason I'm so opposed to you dating Malfoy. Not because I don't think he has it in him to care — because he does and it's plainly obvious when you're together that he can't tear his eyes away from you. I just — I can't stand the thought of seeing you like that again, so heartbroken, when you've only just started to heal._"

I breathed in, listening to her, absorbing the information and knowing, deep down, that it was all true.

In the year since the breakup, it had never occurred to me that the state I had been left in had not only been hard on me, but on my friends, as well. I didn't just owe it to myself to recover. I owed it to them, to those that stood by me and helped me through such a difficult time, and perhaps jumping into another relationship wasn't the best or brightest idea, but I couldn't stand idly by and let things carry on a moment further, not without knowing for sure.

In the worst case scenario, the feelings I had repressed for over four years would be resolved and I could, for the first time in a long time, move on. I explained this to Ginny, and she gave me her blessing, both reluctant and understanding, as she knew this was something I had to do.

From there, the decision was made.

**_Later That Night_**

It was dim in the flat, something I had done on purpose, as the dimness helped me focus on one thing at a time. I paced the lounge, dressed in a casual outfit of skinny jeans, matched with a white camisole and a cream-coloured, loose-fitted jumper. It was around midnight, about four hours after I'd returned from dinner at Harry and Ginny's and sent the letter, that there was a knock on my door.

I breathed in, levelling the stress and the nerves and the overall jittery feeling that tugged and twisted in my stomach, before moving to the source of the commotion and opening that door. Standing on the other side, was a tall, blonde-haired wizard, leaning against the doorframe with a look about him that told me he'd rushed here, through the rain, as his hair was tousled and his trench coat was soaked. _Burberry_, I think.

"_Come in —_" I urged. "_Sorry to call you here so late. I just — I —_"

Draco said nothing, and simply watched as I took his coat and hanged it, struggling to find the right words to explain why I'd called him to my flat.

"_I've been thinking a lot,_" I explained, sounding rather redundant. "_ — and — erm — I think it's time we discussed what's going on here._"

"_What do you mean?_" he asked, though I was sure he knew.

I ushered him to the lounge, where we sat on the loveseat, a safe distance apart, but close enough that I knew he could see the twitch on my lip, each time I tried to say something. It seemed easy to me, at Ginny's and then afterwards, when I'd written the letter, but having him there, in front of me, waiting for me, created a knot in my stomach the size of Jupiter.

"_Sound it out,_" he teased, mirroring the twitch on my lip with one of his own, though his was one of amusement.

I grimaced. "_Hold on. Just — wait here._"

I rose from the loveseat, aware that his eyes were on me as I made my way to the kitchen and, away from his line of vision, took a shot of fire whiskey in an attempt to settle my nerves. It didn't work. I had no choice but to take a moment and ask myself — was this nervousness or was this my mind and body telling me that I had made the wrong decision?

Draco sighed, having followed me into the kitchen, and without a moment of warning, he took the bottle from my hands placed it on the counter.

"_What's wrong?_" he asked me. "_What's going through that mind of yours?_"

I closed my eyes, slowly, doing everything I could to ignore the waves of blue and to instead focus on the grey.

It was smoky and unpredictable and everything I thought I didn't want — but in all the chaos surrounding this moment and the one in Paris, something dawned on me.

"_Maybe we're wrong for each other,_" I suddenly said, finding the words as I went, eyes open. "_In fact, I know we are — like square peg, round hole _**_wrong _**_— but that doesn't change the fact that, right now, you need me as much as I need you._"

His eyebrows rose, surprised, as he listened to the last bit.

"_I won't ask her name, nor will I ask what she did to leave you so broken,_" I said to him. " — _but I also won't believe you, should you tell me I'm wrong and that there isn't a woman somewhere whose lips you imagined when you kissed mine, in Paris, and maybe before that, too._"

From there, his eyebrows lowered, and an unexpected wave washed over his facial features, leaving him across from me, with his hand still clasped around the fire whiskey. Moments later, he brought it to his mouth and had a drink.

I waited, watching as he downed about a third of the bottle, before setting it down. It was worrisome behaviour, sure, but I understood his disposition. I understood his relationship with alcohol and that it was similar to mine.

Perhaps we weren't so different after all.

I moved closer to him then, the smoke, the questions without answers, the feelings that made no sense but refused to disappear, and exhaled. "_Paris was your attempt at proving to yourself, you could feel something for someone other than her,_" I said to him, staring between his eyes. "_Maybe it worked, maybe it didn't. I don't know. I just — I guess I called you here to — to find out._"

He opened his mouth to say something, perhaps to answer, but I wasn't finished. I carried on.

" — _and_ _I know it seems stupid and unrealistic to think I could compare to her or that you could compare to him but —_"

I stopped then, startled, as he held me by the shoulders, silencing the voices in my head, snapping me out of it, using the look in his eyes to centre the thoughts that had plagued me since Paris.

"_You're right,_" he interjected. "— _about everything._"

I calmed, breathing in and out.

It felt good, hearing those words, as though an enormous weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

"_It does seem stupid and unrealistic,_" he echoed, confirming to me that someone, somewhere had broken him in the same manner that _someone, somewhere _had broken me. "_ — but that doesn't make it impossible._"

Something changed, as those last words left his lips, leaving the vibe between us in a place that was uncharted. Part of me was firm against this, but another, not too distant part of me, was coaxed an inch or two forward.

It wasn't about romance or love. It was about feeling something. It was about using the connection we shared and exploring it, for better or for worse — because what else could we have done?

He moved even closer to me then, so close that my next breath was filled with the scent of his cologne…_dark chocolate, black currant, and sandalwood_. I exhaled, causing my eyes to flutter shut, in rhythm with the moment his hands moved from my shoulders, down my sides, to the small of my back, where he drew me towards him, so close, so close.

"_In about five seconds, I'm going to kiss you,_" Draco told me. "— _and then I'll come back here tomorrow and I'll take you on a date, and we'll give this thing between us a proper go, because I don't know about you, but I don't want to live another four years, wondering if things could have been different, had we started on the right foot._"

I listened, and then I waited, and then it happened.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: In case you're wondering, the woman he loves is in their circle of friends. Guesses? Also, the song I would use for this chapter is "Jump Into the Fog" by The Wombats.**

**Cheers**

**xo.**


	44. Chapter 44

**A/N: Chapter Forty-Four!**

* * *

><p>In case you're wondering, we didn't have sex that night. In fact, we didn't have sex at all for about three weeks. It was part of Draco's 'giving us a proper go' mentality and although I found it admirable that he was genuinely trying — your girl <em>needed<em> that D. Like, to the point that my vibrator honest-to-Merlin stopped working.

TMI? TMI.

_Anyway. _

I'm not sure where we stood at that point. It wasn't a committed relationship — but I did know neither of us were seeing other people. It helped that he relocated from Manhattan to London (something he planned to do before our little reunion) which made it easier to see one another and keep in contact. Our friends were curious, but we maintained silence on the subject. None of them knew our arrangement — only that we were exclusive and didn't refer to one another as _boyfriend_ or _girlfriend_.

In hindsight, it was basically a relationship without titles, which, to my knowledge, was a man's wildest, wettest dream — but it wasn't Draco's idea. It was mine.

**_Two Months Later_**

Draco rolled from away from me, in hysterics, laughing harder than I'd ever heard him. I swallowed hard, mortified and embarrassed and seconds away from digging a hole through my bed, from where I could sink deep into the core of the earth and never be heard from again. It was worse than the time I answered wrong in Muggle Studies — much, _much_ worse. It was one photograph short of being worse than the balcony sex incident, to be honest.

"_That — That's never happened before —_" I blurted, hastily covering myself with a bed sheet, as Draco continued to laugh at my expense.

Like, with actual tears in his eyes.

He moved closer to me then, noticing that my cheeks and neck had gone red from how humiliated I felt. Though, his shoulders still shook with internal chuckles. "_No need to explain,_" he said to me, fighting through the laughter, smiling as he kissed the top of my head. "_I found it very sexy._"

I grimaced. "_Please, don't patronize me._"

"_I'm not patronizing you!_" he countered, beyond amused.

"_You're making me feel bad about something I couldn't control,_" I furthered, sitting up and turning away from him with my legs hanging over the right side of the bed.

Draco pouted, sparing a couple seconds before shifting towards me, from behind, on his knees, leaving a trail of kisses along the back of my neck. "_Please, don't be cross with me. I'm sorry for laughing,_" he whispered. "_Really, Hermione…female ejaculation is nothing to be ash —_"

"**_Don't _**_use that word,_" I interjected, eyes wide, bottom lip twitching with laughter; though I tried my best to hide it.

"_What else am I supposed to call it?_" he asked, genuinely curious. "_The other term is so _**_crass_**_. Don't you think?_"

I turned to him then, tossing him a narrow look. "_Coming from the bloke who calls his willy 'the 'Basilisk' and refers to sex as traversing the 'Chamber of Secrets' — I would think not!_"

Draco lost it, breaking out into another fit of laughter, hugging the tension from my facial features with his surprisingly comforting embrace. "_Oh, Hermione. Never a dull moment with you. I'll give you that._"

I muttered some curses under my breath. "_Still upset over here._"

"_Still?_" he furthered, pausing a moment. "_Okay, here's a joke. What do you and the Giant Squid have in common?_"

It should have been clear to me right then and there, but my dumb arse thought he actually had the intent to make me feel better.

"_I don't know…_" I answered, oblivious for the first time in my life. "_What?_"

Draco held back a small laugh, hand sliding towards one of the pillows. "_You both squirt!_" he blurted, shielding himself from me, as I launched at him, playfully (and not-so-playfully) mauling him with my arms and legs.

**_Three Hours Later _**

Still a little annoyed and not at all ready to jump back in bed with him, both myself and Draco arrived at Harry and Ginny's annual Christmas Party with a couple gifts for little James and some cake that I had baked earlier on. It was my first attempt at baking since I lit my parents' house on fire back in '97 and although I was sure the cake had bits of egg shell baked into it, Harry and Ginny were more than gracious and assured me it tasted phenomenal.

Friendship.

I should explain that myself and Draco had received more than a few curious looks from the other guests, as we maintained the fact that we weren't a couple, and yet went to parties as a couple and bought gifts for babies as a couple and held hands when we thought no one was looking — as couples do.

It was beginning to feel a lot like a serious, committed relationship, which was not what I had in mind, for obvious reasons. Namely, the fact that my last two serious relationships had ended with me in hysterical tears. Like, full-on racoon eyes, snot-dripping-down-the-face, more-than-should-be-physically-possible tears.

Needless to say, I wasn't a beautiful crier.

That in mind, I left Draco's side and found the other girls near the other side of the lounge, where Astoria appeared to be telling the story of when she and Blaise were caught having sex at _Westfield. _It was an amusing anecdote, one that Ginny topped with the time Harry went down on her in the Forbidden Forest, during their first attempt at a relationship. Before then, it slipped my mind they had broken up at all. It seemed their relationship had become a permanent fixture in my life, like the one Penelope and Rowan shared — my parents.

"_That's nothing…_" Daphne furthered, motioning for the lot of us to move in closer, as she topped all the stories with one that had my balcony incident beat.

I gaped at her. "_No…_"

"_Yes,_" she giggled, smiling and waving at Ronald, who smiled and waved back, an arch in his brow as we broke out into a fit of laughter.

Ginny shuddered a bit. "_Enough about my brother,_" she decided. "_Hermione, give us your story — excluding the balcony incident._"

I paused, thinking about what happened earlier that day, cringing a little, and then, without warning, I landed on something I hadn't thought about in a long time — the broom closet.

It was the only time, excluding my would-have-been-hook-up with Charlie, and the aforementioned balcony incident, that I had sex in a public place.

"_Erm — drawing a blank,_" I lied, receiving disappointed sighs all around.

From there, our discussion made the swift transition into mature, adult topics, such as the housing market and the dangers of riding a broomstick without a helmet, as well as cardboard applicator versus plastic and/or no applicator.

v mature.

**_Two Hours Later _**

It was after dinnertime and I was, without a doubt, stuffed beyond measure. Had I breathed too hard, the seams along the sides of my dress would surely have come apart bit by bit. Luckily, my date was an expert with clothing repair. I sluggishly found his side, as most of the others had slipped into food coma, and sat with him near the fireplace. It crackled and hissed, casting an orange glow over the lounge, making Ron's hair appear as though it were truly on fire.

I smiled at this, reminded of good times in the Gryffindor Common Room. Only, things were different, as there were Slytherins in our presence; most of whom were excellent friends of mine. I didn't think the day would come when I considered the likes of Astoria Greengrass to be friendship-worthy, nor Draco, for that matter. But I talked to them the most out of everyone.

I liked that she was brutally honest and always, always ready to have a good time. I found she quite reminded of Jillian, someone with whom I had lost touch since we entered adulthood. In fact, I had lost touch with most of my relatives over the years and I supposed it was bound to happen, as I was a witch, with witch-y things to do, but it would have been nice to have a small Granger Family Reunion.

On second thought, _nah_.

"_You're doing that thing again…_" Draco voiced, making room for me on the arm chair, smiling as I opted to sit on his lap.

I looked to him, in a strangely good mood. "_What thing?_"

"_Acting like my girlfriend,_" he answered, in a manner that was neither horrified nor repulsed — more sentimental than anything.

"_You're such a sap,_" I smiled, situated on his lap, with the back of my head against his chest and his arms around me. Our height different was immense, but I quite liked being with abnormally tall men. It made overpowering them more fun.

Around then, we heard something come from upstairs. It wasn't terribly loud, as no one else had noticed, mostly because they were all asleep, but I jerked into upright position the moment I identified the source.

"_James —_" I voiced, worried, wheeling a look around and spotting his parents on another sofa, asleep. To my knowledge, they put their son to bed hours ago and had recently decided to employ the 'tough love' technique, but something in me cried with that little blob whenever so much as a whimper escaped his itty bitty lips.

"_Should we tell Harry and Ginny?_" asked my date, scratching the back of his head.

I bit my bottom lip, in thought. "_Erm — no. I'll just — I'll go up there and sort him out. He probably needs his nappies changed._"

Draco gagged a little, but followed me nonetheless, mirroring my tiptoeing as we moved up the stairs and into the baby's room. It was a large room, with mint green walls and loads of cartoon elephants plastered over the walls. James loved elephants. I mean, he couldn't properly speak yet and didn't know his fingers from his toes, but he _loved_ elephants.

I leaped across the floor, careful to land as soft as possible, evading squeaky toys and anything that would draw too much attention, before finding myself near the crib, where I lifted James into my arms and took a whiff of his nappies.

"_Status report?_" Draco asked, hovering near the door, as though there were a force field blocking him.

This time, I gagged, holding James up — Simba style. "_Code brown. Definite code brown!_"

"_All yours, babe._"

I grimaced, moving James to his changing table and remembering what his mother and father had taught me, for the nights that I looked after the poop monster. It was simple enough.

1. Dispose of soiled nappy.

2. Wipe baby bottom.

3. Check for rashes on baby bottom.

4. Apply rash cream and/or petroleum jelly where necessary.

5. Secure clean nappy.

6. Marvel at work.

7. Last but not least, cuddles!

In response to the last step, James usually gave me a dopey grin and listened to me as I told him all about early admission into Healer School and the benefits of being an intern at the Ministry during summer holidays. Never too soon, right?

That night, however, something was wrong. James had no dopey grin on his face. It looked to me as though he were seconds away from crying, again, during which time I quickly waved Draco over and had him hold the baby, as I checked his vitals and made sure everything was in order — physically speaking. Again, one of the things his mother and father had taught me.

"_He seems fine to me,_" I reasoned, frowning a little, tickling the baby's toes. "_What is it, Jimmy? Upset about England losing the Quidditch World Cup, like Mum and Dad?_"

From there, a tiny whimper escaped his lips, which then grew into a full on cry. If I wasn't so heartbroken over it, I would surely have laughed at Draco's reaction. He panicked, eyes wide, sweaty forehead, as though he were holding an atomic bomb.

"_What do I do with it?_" he asked, desperate for me to grab hold of the child. "_What do I do with it, Hermione?!_"

"_First, he's a human being, not an 'it' —_" I said, matter-of-factly. "_Second, sit your arse on that rocker and sing him to sleep._"

Draco stared at me, horrified. "_Sit on the _**_what_**_ and do _**_what_**_?_"

I tossed him a knowing look. "_Oh, go on. You'll have to learn sooner or later. Just support his neck and hold him the way you would one of your designs — with care and caution._"

"_What if he shits on me?_" the man asked, eyes moist with emotion, at the mere idea of such a horrible thing. "_Hermione, if he shits on me —_"

"_He won't,_" I interjected, motioning him to the rocker, and waiting until he sat with baby James, cradled in his arms. " — _and don't use bad words in front of the baby._"

Draco grimaced. "_Yeah, yeah._"

"_I'll be right back,_" I then said, ignoring his looks of protest, as I tiptoed out of the room. "_Just going to the loo. I think I've started my period._"

I could hear another gagging noise, the moment those last words left my lips, still amused at every male's reaction to menstruation. It was _such_ a taboo subject — especially in the wizarding world. I made mental notes everyday to teach my future children about their bodily functions on my own, without pamphlets or right wing propaganda, as those things usually worked to brainwash growing children into thinking their bodies were foul and disgusting and should never be discussed.

It then occurred to me, as it usually did, that I was far from having children. In fact, I wasn't even married — not that you had to be married to have children, but you know what I mean. I suppose I had never imagined myself in a pseudo-relationship with no real future, at the age of twenty-eight. By now, I would liked to have been married, with a decent-sized house, most of the mortgage paid, and maybe my first baby on the way.

But, no.

I was alone, living in a building with a bunch of kids in their early 20's, dating the same man that had once called me _Moaning Mudblood. _

Not an ideal situation, by any means, but those things didn't stop me from planning for the future. I had a neighbourhood picked out and everything, as well as names for the children that I didn't have. Rose for the girl and Hugo for the boy. Cute, no?

I sighed with longing and entered the loo, internally smacking myself upside the head as I realized I left my purse (along with the proper feminine products) in the master bedroom, where Ginny stowed our important items, in case the other house guests were feeling klepto.

From there, I moved to the master bedroom and located my purse within seconds, tearing the zip open and rummaging through the contents until I located a tampon. I then made motion to the leave the master bedroom and head back for the corridor, until something caught my attention.

It was silver and hanging from Ginny's antique jewellery box.

I blinked, frozen with an emotion that overlapped my heart again and again and again and again and even when I thought it was done, again once more. It was there, exactly where I had asked her to hold onto it for me about eight or nine months ago, as though no time had passed and that I was back in the Puddlemere house.

Against my better judgment, I moved closer and closer and to the antique box and opened the little door, swallowing hard as the tips of my fingers brushed the thin, delicate silver chain, lifting the item in the palm of my hand and laying eyes on it for the first time in far, _far_ too long.

It was the snowflake necklace.

**_Ten Minutes Later _**

I moved down the corridor and returned to the doorway of little Jimmy's room, having realized I was not starting my period and that what I had felt was — erm — well — the residual effect of what had happened earlier that — you know what? Never mind! Point is, I was in the clear.

It took about three seconds of me standing there, that I realized I had left the door open, only about an inch or two and that Draco hadn't seen me. He was still sitting on the rocker with James in his arms, cradling him, whispering something that I had trouble hearing within those first few moments. I should probably have made my presence known, but I found the idea of eavesdropping much more gratifying. I had _years _of teasing to catch up on, after all.

In deciding that, I performed a quick spell to temporarily boost my hearing, during which time I pressed an ear to the wall, where he couldn't see me, and listened.

"_You look a bit like a potato, but I suppose that was bound to happen, considering your father and whatnot,_" Draco told the baby, the latter of whom was no longer in tears, but giggling, unless my ears betrayed me. "_Hmm. Hermione mentioned that I should start a baby line. What do you think? Yea or Nay?_" he then asked. "_Farting on my arm works, too._"

I suppressed the tickle of laughter in my belly, and listened even closer.

"_You know what? You're not that bad,_" he decided, earning another giggle from his new friend. "_I guess you have messy, weird looking hair — even for a baby — but you do have your mother's eyes._"

Heh.

Draco paused a moment, before furthering. "_Bright brown. Flecks of bronze in the right light,_" he remarked, as though he were thinking out loud — of something or _someone _rather specific. "_I'm sure you'll have the witches going mental for you soon enough. If and when that happens, you come to me and I'll teach you the ropes. Deal?_" James giggled again, sounding like one of those babies in nappy adverts. "_Deal._"

I blinked, stepping back a couple inches, eyes the size of Galleons. "_Holy fucking shit._"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I've mentally prepared for the shit storm. Don't worry. It'll make sense soon enough! Again, to Nott fans, he'll make an appearance (sooner rather than later). Beyond that, thoughts on this chapter? **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	45. Chapter 45

**A/N: Chapter Forty-Five!**

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><p>In a bit of a daze, I retreated down the stairs, head spinning and thoughts racing, as I found Ginny drifting in and out of sleep in the lounge. So many questions. So little time for answers. I blinked hard and continued into the kitchen, where I knew there was a bottle of merlot with my name on it.<p>

"_Hermione,_" Harry smiled, a little startled, uncorking that same bottle. "_Fancy a glass?_"

I nodded, finding my place beside him, watching as he poured the wine, looking up at him every now and then, simply thinking. For some reason, it made me emotional to be around him. I had to remind myself that what I had heard could've meant nothing and that Draco had always been very observant. No more. No less.

But the manner in which he had spoken echoed long after.

It was all I could do not to rush up those stairs and demand the truth.

I had to remind myself that I couldn't, as I had promised him I wouldn't ask about the woman he loved (liked?) nor would I ask about what she had done to leave him so heartbroken. Perhaps it was unrequited love. I had known Ginny for years, and as I mentioned earlier, she truly blossomed during her last few years at Hogwarts. Perhaps Draco had noticed and harboured something for her? Still…

Harry tossed me an amused look. "_You look constipated._"

"_Er — what?_" I asked, snapping out of it. "_Oh — erm, no. I'm — I'm fine._"

"_You sure?_" he asked, handing me a glass of merlot.

I nodded, rather hard, and took a large, long sip from the glass, emptying it one full go. It should have ended there, really, but it seemed the wine only furthered the thoughts racing through my mind, making them travel twice as fast, shouting them in a voice that was twice as loud. I breathed in and out, seconds away from losing it, until finally — it happened.

My eyes darted to Harry. "_Are you and Ginny okay?_" I asked him, sounding more exasperated than I had intended.

The Chosen One arched an eyebrow at me, lowering his own glass from his mouth and motioning for me to follow him. I did, out of the kitchen, into the corridor, and towards his study. Inside, the walls were lined with shelves and there was a single desk situated in the centre of the room. It was large and mahogany, and reminded me of the desk in my mother and father's study. Only, this one had places for a pot of ink and a quill, as opposed to a computer.

"_It's nice in here,_" I commented, brushing my fingertips along the spines of the nearest books — a little turned on, if I had to be honest.

Harry forced a smile and nodded, as though something were on his mind.

I turned away from the shelves and followed him to the desk, where we sat across from one another, in silence.

It took about two minutes for him to speak, and when he did, there was no turning back.

"_Malfoy told you?_" he asked, rather casual despite the subject matter.

I didn't say anything, alarmed.

Under the dim light, it was difficult to make out his lightning bolt scar, seeing as the marking had started to fade the moment Tom Riddle had been defeated, but I was no fool to the fact that Harry still touched it on occasion, in a moment of panic or fear or uncertainty or helplessness, as though he expected it to sting.

I watched on, as his hand brushed over his forehead and then sunk to his lap. If I hadn't been frozen with fear, over the question that had come from his lips, I would most certainly have gone over there and hugged him. It was difficult, watching him unravel before me. He was usually so strong and so composed at work. I realized then, what a terrible friend I had been. Selfish. Ignorant. Stupid.

During our time at Hogwarts, something as serious as this would never have slipped under my radar.

I would have known and I would have helped.

But, there I was, having yet to utter a word.

"_Are you okay?_" I finally asked, feeling ridiculous.

Harry looked to me, as though he were absorbed in his own thoughts and as though he had forgotten that I was there. I wondered how many nights he had spent, alone in that same room, thinking, pondering.

"_I'm not sure about the details,_" he admitted to me. "_All I know is that something happened between them in Whistler._"

I blinked — hard. "_Ginny cheated on you?_"

"_It was only a kiss,_" he shrugged, though I could tell it bothered him to speak those words. "_I — I should explain that we were having problems at the time._"

"_That doesn't excuse cheating,_" I told him, eyes wide with concern. "_Harry, have you kept this to yourself all these years?_"

He was at a loss. "_It's not like I can shout it from the rooftops. She's the mother of my child, Hermione._"

I blanked, uncertain as to what I could possibly do or say. "_Does — Does she —_"

"_She doesn't love him,_" he quickly answered. "_She doesn't really even like him._"

"_But — then — why would she —_"

Harry exhaled, drinking the rest of his wine. "_Lapse in judgment, I suppose. Like I said, we were having problems. Around that time, we had been trying to conceive and we ran into some serious complications, having been told by multiple Healers that we could never have children together. It was stressful, on both of us, and our marriage suffered. I slept on the sofa for weeks — and then we went to Whistler. It was difficult being there, acting as though we were fine and that we hadn't fought for a solid two months, but there was no choice. We had to pretend,_" he explained. "_Am I angry that she turned to him, even for something as small as a kiss? Yes, absolutely. But I'm angrier at myself, for pushing her to that point. I should've been there for her. I should've taken days off and done things with her, especially after she left the team to start a family._"

I listened, heartbroken and at the same time, confused beyond measure. "_Harry, I — I'm so sorry._"

"_Don't be,_" he said to me, smiling again, only with his mouth. "_It's all in the past._"

From there, I couldn't help thinking back to Whistler, to the game, to the moment Harry and Daphne had been forced to kiss and the way Ginny had shrugged it off. I wondered then, had she planned to kiss Draco by that point? Did she use that dare as a way to lessen her own lapse in judgment? Did the kiss happen while they were sober? The answer was right there in front of me. I was just too blind to see it.

Perhaps that was the reason Ginny didn't want me to date him. It wasn't that she had feelings for him. It was that she didn't want him around, and the fact that I was dating him made that close to impossible.

I breathed in and then out, in an attempt to level my thoughts.

"_Are _**_you_**_ okay?_" Harry asked me.

"_What? Oh — yeah. I'm just — I don't know. I'm not sure what to think right now._"

He nodded, distantly. "_One step at a time,_" he voiced, as though it were his mantra. "_One step at a time._"

**_Two Hours Later _**

In the hours that followed, I had left the Christmas party and retreated to the oasis that was my bathtub. I stripped out of my clothes and into the warm water, sighing with release as the tension in my muscles lessened some. There was still a long road ahead, before I could make sense of the thoughts racing through my mind, but the first step in doing so involved a nice, relaxing night at home. I lit some candles and used my favourite bath bomb, immersing myself in the dim lighting and the soft aroma (vanilla, with a touch of cinnamon) as well as the music I had going in the background.

"White Flag" by _Dido_

I quite liked her voice. It calmed me, as did the lyrics and the soft beat.

Do you want to know what didn't calm me? The voice on the other side the door.

"_Hermione?_" Draco called out, knocking. "_You in there?_"

I groaned with disdain, wanting nothing more than to submerge myself in the water and disappear. Though, that would probably have given him more of a reason to think something was bothering me. Since leaving the party, I had avoided him and although I did question his intelligence (on occasion) he had to have known there was something on my mind — and that he was directly involved.

"_Come in,_" I said to him, without making the effort to rearrange the bubbles.

He entered moments later, leaning against the sink, making an obvious attempt at trying to catch my gaze, which I pointed in every direction but his. "_Did I — Did I do something wrong?_"

I scoffed at this.

"_What's going on?_" he furthered, genuinely concerned. "_I thought we had a good at time the party. I thought you — _"

"_Save it,_" I interjected. "_Just leave. I want to be alone tonight._"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "_Hermione, I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's bothering you._"

"_You want to know?_"

"_Yes,_" he answered swiftly, without a moment of hesitation. "_Please, by all means, tell me._"

"_Fine,_" I countered, rising from the tub, as he had already ruined the calm, relaxing atmosphere with his stubbornness. I then reached behind him and wrapped one of the fluffy white towels around myself, leaving the ends of my hair soaked and my skin glistening against the candlelight.

Draco focused his eyes on mine the entire time, waiting for me.

I folded my arms in response, mostly to keep the towel in place and also because I was very, very annoyed.

"_Are you going to say something?_" he asked, sounding rather annoyed himself. "_Or is this a game of charades?_"

"_Oh, piss off —_" I grumbled, making motion to leave the room.

From there, he followed me into the bedroom and closed the door behind us, as I hurriedly changed into a t-shirt and some boy shorts. I could feel him looking at me, tearing holes through the back of my skull with his penetrating stare. It was beginning to do my head in, everything I had heard in James' room and then later, what Harry had told me.

It didn't involve me, not directly, but that didn't stop the truth from seeping deep into my bloodstream, propelling me further and further until I couldn't hold back.

"_You kissed a married woman!_" I shouted at him, turning around, chest rising and falling as I breathed in and out, heavily and deeply.

Draco paused, looking at me, taken aback. "_That's what this is about?_"

"_Yes —_" I retorted, swiping my wand from atop the dresser and pointing it at him with fire in my eyes. "_Now leave before I count to ten, or so help me Merlin, I _**_will_**_ curse you into oblivion_."

"_Put the bloody wand down,_" he said to me, calm despite the threat. "_You're acting like a child._"

I blinked — hard. "_Beg your pardon? _**_I'm _**_acting like a child? Am _**_I _**_the one who goes around fucking and chucking, propositioning people, and snogging married women?!_"

Draco sighed. "_I don't understand why you're so bent out of shape._"

"_She's my best friend,_" I enunciated, seething with contempt. "_How could you?_"

"_How could _**_I_**_?_" he repeated, moving closer, snatching the wand from my grasp and tossing it to the bed. "_How could _**_you_**_?_"

In that moment, there was a fissure in the wall that I built up between us. I paused, confused and then realizing, but it was too late for me to say something, as he beat me to it.

The man scoffed. "_Nott was like a fucking brother to me, before you came between us, and now, because of you, he's gone and no one knows where he is._"

I opened my mouth to say something, exasperated.

"_Do you honestly think he would have disappeared if it weren't for you, Granger?_"

"_That's not fa —_"

"_No, it is fair,_" he interjected. "_ — and I'll tell you why, because before you were in the picture, he was fine. Yes, he was lonely but at least he was at peace. Now, he's gone, doing Merlin knows what, with no one by his side._"

I did nothing but blink, blocking the emotion that pooled around my eyes.

Draco paced the room, mumbling things under his breath, wiping his own eyes and avoiding me at all costs. It was strange seeing him like that, hearing those words come from him. Until then, he'd never spoken to me about — about Nott. It was stupid of me to think I was the only one distraught over what had happened. But no one else spoke about it. No one else acknowledged what happened — at least not around me.

It occurred to me then, that there was a chance Draco's opinions weren't his alone. Perhaps Daphne, Astoria, and Blaise agreed, and that was the reason they chose not to speak about Nott — because if they did, this would've happened.

I moved to the foot of the bed, eyes closed and mind numb.

In those few seconds, something cold danced across my clavicle. It was the necklace. I had forgotten, until then, that I had it on. It was cool against my skin and coaxed an unexpected shiver from deep within me, one that dispersed to the ends of my being and back again.

If I tried hard enough, I'm sure I could have heard his voice, speaking those words again, the ones that haunted me and drove me to memories of him night after night after night.

It wasn't long after that, that Draco took notice.

"_Hermione,_" he said to me, the anger in his voice fleeting, replaced with guilt. "_I_ _shouldn't have said those things. I'm sorry. Please...Please believe me._"

I didn't respond. I simply sat there, head tilted down, eyes closed, as he watched. I felt him sit down beside me, where he brought my head to his chest and mirrored my thoughts and feared with some of his own.

"_Just so you know,_" he started to say, his arms around me. "_Ginny isn't the one. Yes, I kissed her in a moment of weakness and yes, I regret it more than anything — but she isn't the one. It may shock you to hear this but — but I respect Potter too much to come between them. I guess — I guess that's why I told him the truth._"

"**_You_**_ told him?_" I asked, glancing up.

Draco nodded. "_Do you remember the black eye I earned from skiing, on our last day? Well, it wasn't from skiing._"

There was a raise in my brows. "_Go, Harry…_"

Right then, he smiled, laughing a little. "_It was nothing compared to when you slapped me in Third Year._"

"_That _**_was _**_amazing,_" I furthered, rather fondly. "_Though…I'm still a little confused about something._"

"_What is it?_" he asked, looking to me.

I paused for a moment, immersed in thought. "_If — If Ginny isn't the one, then —_"

Draco laughed. "_Do you really have to ask?_"

"_Daphne?_"

"_Oh, for Merlin's sake. Don't take this the wrong way, but for someone so clever, you're a bit of an idiot when it comes to things like this,_" he remarked, earning a nudge in the ribs, which only made him laugh some more, before he drew me close to him and whispered. "_It's you, you nutter._"

I blanked, confused beyond comprehension. "_But —_ _that makes no sense._"

"_Doesn't it?_"

"_You said she was another woman._"

"_Aren't you?_" he furthered.

I swallowed hard, thinking back. It — It did make some sense, on some level. I suppose part of me had always known that Draco had feelings for me, even when he was with another woman and even when I was with his best friend. It occurred to me on several occasions that he could still have harboured something for me, through all of that; with or without the letter; with or without the dresses; with or without the titles or the private planes or the dances.

His hold on me loosened a little. "_I know you want to take things slow, and that's why I didn't tell you sooner, but now that the truth is out, and you know how I feel, maybe it's time we talk about where this is headed…if anywhere at all._"

Something tugged at my heartstrings. "_I…I don't know if I'm ready to have that talk…_"

"_That's okay,_" he said to me, bringing my closest hand to his lips, where he kissed it. "_I'm good at waiting._"

I breathed in, smiling a little, fading into him as we embraced. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't the 'relationship' that I had imagined, growing up, but I liked it. I liked being around him — around Draco.

His arms felt good around me and I liked the way he combed through my hair, with only his fingertips. "_I'm sorry for kissing your best friend,_" he eventually said.

It was then that I closed my eyes, and offered him my own apology. "_I'm sorry for driving yours out of the country._"

This time around, Draco didn't have something funny or clever or hurtful to say. Just the truth. "_He was your best friend, too._"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thoughts?**

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	46. Chapter 46

**A/N: Chapter Forty-Six!**

* * *

><p>By this point, the one year mark, as well as the two year mark had come to pass. It kept me up at night and absorbed my thoughts at work, thinking where he could be or what he was doing, with whom and for how long. It wasn't a matter of missing him on a romantic level, not anymore. It was a matter of having my friend back. It was a matter of knowing he was out there somewhere, living, breathing, being free and seeing what he could of the world.<p>

Because there was so much out there, so much I wish I could have given him.

But his decision to leave, left me waiting on the sidelines, waiting for someone or something that may never return.

**_Two Months Later _**

It was now February and the new year brought with it many changes.

The most important change of all was that of mine and Draco's relationship. It was official. I was with him. It wasn't about sex or having someone to cuddle at night. Somewhere along the line, I managed to see something in him that I had never noticed before.

He was a good man.

He was good to his parents. He was good to his employees. He was good to me.

I repeated those things to myself, time and time again, ingraining those words into the depths of my subconscious, until I didn't have to anymore.

"_Dray — co,_" he enunciated, pointing to himself, as two-year-old James looked on with the same dopey grin on his face. "_Now you try. Go on. _**_Dray — co_**_._"

James farted.

"_Granger, I think he's broken,_" Draco rationalized, scratching the back of his head. "_According to my mother, I was speaking full sentences by the time I reached my second birthday. He's now one week in, and all he can say is —_"

I faced James and pointed to myself, smiling with him as he clapped his hands together in excitement.

"_My — knee!_" the little one announced, gleefully. "_My — knee!_"

Draco rolled his eyes. "_Big deal. You've known him for an entire year longer than I have. I'll have him memorizing the Malfoy family history in no time._"

"_I'm not sure his parents would approve of that,_" I winked, plopping James into his high chair, as we sat down for some lunch.

It was one of the rare occasions when Harry and Ginny decided to take some time as a couple and go on holiday, which meant James was mine to look after. I adored spending time with the little poop monster and vowed to make the most of this weekend, as both myself and Draco had nothing to do, apart from look after the little one and — to be perfectly honest — play house.

"_Is this…edible?_" Draco asked, eyeing the sandwiches that I had prepared for us, and then sneaking a look at James' toddler food with longing.

It was no secret that I was a failure in the kitchen, but sandwiches were my thing. I nudged him and took a seat on the other side of my small, round table. The flat was beginning to feel a little small, what with James and Draco there for the weekend, and yes, I had been looking into buying a bigger place — perhaps a house — but I didn't want to rush into anything.

There was no purpose in buying a house without people to live in it.

Around an hour after lunch, James was sat in the middle of the lounge with his toys spread out and some of those talking books. I could tell the exaggerated, cartoon-y voices were beginning to do Draco's head in, so I had an idea.

"_How about we go to the park?_" I suggested, due for some time outside. "_It's quite a nice day, don't you think?_"

Draco practically jumped for the joy, more than ready to leave the flat. From there, we packed up some of James' essentials and took him to the park near my building. It was nothing compared to the one I had grown up playing in, but there weren't many options in the neighbourhood, and it wasn't safe to Floo or to Apparate with a child so young.

That in mind, we had a nice stroll to the nearby park and were careful to bundle the little one up, as there was a slight breeze. It was a nice day and it appeared most of the families in the area — not too many — decided on the same for their children. I made sure to keep an eye on James and Draco as they went down the slide together and then the swings. It was nice seeing Draco doing something normal, without a bunch of gorgeous models fawning over him after a show — not that, that bothered me because _pfft. _

I happened to know he liked his women a little on the curvier side.

Apart from that, it made me think.

I tried, for the first time in my life, to take life as it came, and to not think too long or too hard about the future. It wasn't about planning or milestones — not for me. I had reached the milestones I had wanted to reach a long time ago. I had a fantastic career and work life. I had good friends. I made a point to visit my parents often. I travelled often, to different places. I had fallen in love more times in the space of ten years than most people did in a lifetime, and never, ever, had any of those times been unrequited. I felt lucky, knowing that.

I mean, I suppose there was still the marriage milestone — but the older I turned, the more I realized, perhaps marriage wasn't for me.

I looked at people like my parents, as well as Ginny and Harry, and I couldn't help but admire the sacrifices they had made for each other. It was beautiful and such an intense show of commitment. But I didn't know if I would ever find someone who inspired such an intense level of sacrifice within me.

Well, I did know.

As did he, which, to my understanding, was the reason our situation had taken such a drastic, unforeseeable turn. Unlike Rowan Granger and Harry Potter, this person didn't want me to sacrifice even an ounce of myself for him or our relationship.

_That _was admirable, and although I found myself happier and smiling more often than I had since the moment he disappeared, I couldn't help but pray to the God I didn't believe in, for a sign, something, anything to point me in the right direction.

I breathed in, knowing there was one last option, one that I'd been avoiding.

Heaven.

It could have been, that the next time I would see him would be in heaven.

I didn't know his religious beliefs — whether he had any.

If I had to venture a guess, I would've pegged him to be agnostic, like myself, but I suppose the idea of heaven was reassuring to people in his situation. It sure as hell reassured me.

Again, I tried not to think about it, knowing I had to keep an eye on James and on Draco. As much as I admired Draco for stepping up and showing me he had it in him to be a mature, family-oriented adult with more to his life than traveling and red carpet events — I couldn't help but keep watch on him, knowing he had never been around a child before James. I found them near the swings, where Draco had James on his lap, holding him with both hands, as he used his legs to push and pull the swing, back and forth, again and again.

It was quite adorable, to be perfectly honest.

I smiled and waved at them, with a warm feeling in my chest and the camera that Draco had brought with him at the ready. I held it up, pointing the lens at them and managing to take a few candid shots — broad grins on their faces and a touch of pink on both their cheeks. It was nice, something I would keep no matter where life took me, with or without Draco, and the longer I looked at it, admiring the men in the photograph, I couldn't help but notice something.

There was someone else in the photograph, far in the background.

I held the polaroid up, to my eyes, and took a closer look, recognizing that hair and that height and even that coat.

It hit me all at once.

Without thinking, I abandoned our things and raced through the grass, to the other side, away from the swings. Draco was smiling and laughing, and motioned for me to join in on his and James' fun — until he noticed the look in my eyes.

"_Hermione —_" he cut through, setting the child down in his stroller, stopping me, holding me by the waist and then by the shoulders. "_What's wrong? Are you okay? Why are you run —_"

"_He's here!_" I shouted, struggling to break free. "_He's here!_"

Draco widened his eyes at me, looking around as people began to whisper, moving their kids away from our area of the park. "_Hermione, calm down. Who's here? Say something._"

I used all my strength in an attempt to break free, resorting to one swift smack on the chest until his hold loosened. "_Let go! Let go of me!_"

"_Hermione, please. Just tell me —_"

"_Let — go!_"

"_Calm down and talk to —_"

"_Nott's here!_" I finally cried, tears streaming from my eyes, down my cheeks and into the collar of my jacket. "_He was in the photograph! I saw him over there! Just — I need to talk to him!_"

With that, Draco released me, making sure James was all right, and then wheeling his stroller along with the rest of our things to where I stood. It was near the edge of the park, where the block ended and the cars whizzed by. I glanced from side to side, searching, tearing through the streets with my eyes, as though I were a hawk in the middle of the wild.

It happened quickly after that.

I breathed in and out, heavily, panting, pacing back and forth, snapping my gaze in all directions, wheeling one enormous look around the park and back again, until I stumbled backwards, against a tree, struggling to focus, to make sense of what I had seen.

Draco found me then, with James in the stroller, an animatedly concerned look on the toddler's face.

"_He was here,_" I whispered, running both hands through my hair. "_I saw him. I — I know I did._"

"_I believe you saw him,_" my boyfriend told me, finding my side. "_Sometimes…I see him, too._"

With that, I shook my head. "_No, no no. I _**_actually _**_saw him,_" I countered, showing him what was in the polaroid. "_See? He was…He was standing right here. I just…I must have missed him. I had to have missed him. He was right here. He was right here…_"

The photograph was met with silence on Draco's end. He took one look at it, and then at me, moisture in his eyes as he pocketed the image and brought my head to his chest. "_You're okay,_" he said to me, brushing through my hair. "_You're okay._"

**_One Week Later _**

Following what had happened that day at the park, the humiliation and the horror in realizing I had hallucinated him, I distanced myself from those thoughts — the ones that comforted me through the first year of separation and most of the second. Thoughts of him. Memories of him. I missed him more than words could describe — but I decided then, that I couldn't live in the past. I couldn't put myself through that. I couldn't put Draco through that.

I wasn't a child.

I was twenty-eight.

I couldn't race through parks, where innocent children were, in search of someone who abandoned me years ago.

Draco proved to me that he could be an adult, and it was now my turn to prove to him that I could do the same.

That in mind, I sought help from a Muggle professional, someone to counsel me, to navigate me through the confusing mix of emotions that I had been battling and an occasion, avoiding within the past couple of years.

Dr. Nalini Gupta.

She studied with my mother, back when they were in uni, and the two kept in close contact, though I had never met Nalini until our first appointment.

"_Hermione,_" she smiled, welcoming me into her office, which was enormous, with a gorgeous mahogany desk, and a lounge-style arrangement on the other side, one that reminded me of the Gryffindor Common Room, as it was filled with loads of reds and oranges and yellows. "_My name is Nalini Gupta,_" she introduced, leading me to the lounge, where we sat diagonal from one another — her on the arm chair and me on the loveseat. "_ — but please, call me Nalini._"

I returned her smile, feeling warm and welcome and ready to begin. "_Your office is beautiful,_" I commented. "_ — twice as big as my flat, without a doubt._"

Nalini laughed at this, still poised. "_I'd hope so, after working in this field for over twenty-five years._"

I laughed with her, mostly because that sounded like something my mother would have said.

From there, the pleasantries were over and the session began. It was an hour long, and I arranged to visit her on a weekly basis. Draco was very supportive, as were Harry and Ginny, the only people apart from my parents who knew.

"_So,_" she started, smiling, a natural look to her. "_What brings you here?_"

I paused, suddenly nervous. "_Erm —_"

Nalini didn't interject, when I failed to form a response, nor did she press me further. She simply waited, communicating with me through her eyes, using them as a way to reassure me that I would be fine and that this was simply a conversation between two career-driven women, not the counselling session I had been nervous about all week.

I should explain that she had a daughter at Hogwarts (Muggle-born, like me) which made seeking her counsel an easier experience, as I didn't have to lie about my life as a witch and could therefore garner an honest evaluation.

I thought about that often, breathing in and out, levelling the thoughts and the fears that had held me back, before speaking. "_I — I'm here because — because I need answers and — and I don't think I'm capable of finding those answers on my own._"

Nalini listened, and took a couple notes, though I barely noticed, as she was quite swift about it, in a manner that told me she didn't want to interrupt my thoughts. I found myself pausing and beginning to analyze her. I had no idea whether that was normal behaviour or whether my skepticism would be a setback. All I knew, was that our conversation had started and before I knew it, she had me talking, talking about everything — from before I had been accepted into Hogwarts, to the moment I entered those corridors for the first time.

"_I suppose, as a teenager, I had been through a lot. My best friends Harry and Ron, as well. Sometimes, I look back on everything — on every rule we had ever broken, every battle we had ever survived — and it terrifies me._"

"_What makes you say that?_" she asked.

It took a moment for me to answer. "_I just — I guess it never occurred to me back then, that what we were going through was toxic. It wasn't about chasing boys or revising for the next exam,_" I explained, thinking. "_It was about survival — and we were kids._"

Nalini took some more notes, swift as ever. "_Were you ever in fear for your life?_"

"_Yes, multiple times._"

"_ — and how do you think that affected you?_"

I thought, long and hard. "_I — I suppose having to rationalize the concept of death at so young an age, left me with an idealistic view of what it means to survive. Yes, I witnessed loved ones perish, but I also witnessed a teenaged boy triumph over an evil, sadistic tyrant, one who could have ended the boy's life without batting an eye — and yet, the boy survived._"

"_Do you know this boy?_" Nalini asked, though I was sure she knew the answer.

I nodded. "_Yes, he's one of my best friends._"

There was a brief pause, about three or four seconds, wherein my mind wandered, until Nalini grounded me with her calm, composed voice. The session continued, propelling me further into long forgotten topics — so much so that the hour had passed without me noticing.

I supposed that was a good thing, the mark of an hour well spent.

**_Later That Night _**

"_How was it?_" Draco asked, walking with me from our favourite restaurant.

I kept silence through dinner, but I knew I couldn't keep him in the dark. Not long. It was difficult, explaining to people in the wizarding community, the ins and outs, and long term benefits of counselling, as mental health wasn't strongly researched or taken seriously. But he was very supportive and willing to learn, which made me smile more often and for longer.

"_It was a step in the right direction,_" I said to him, lacing our hands together, as we took the long way home, through that same park. "_How are your designs coming along?_"

"_They're good, they're good…_" he nodded along. "_In fact, Daphne has asked me to design her wedding dress._"

I looked to him, an open smile on my face. "_Really?_"

He returned my smile. "_Yeah — I can't believe we're all so old! Harry and Ginny have another one on the way. Ron and Daphne are tying the knot. Hell, even Blaise and Astoria are getting serious. I saw him pop into a ring shop the other day._"

It was surprising, to think things had changed so much over the years. I had started adulthood in a relationship with Ronald, and he was now ready to start his life with Daphne Greengrass — a lovely, brilliant woman, but a surprise all the same. Blaise and Astoria were a match made in heaven; both extroverts with loads of introverted complexities to keep them busy. Then there were Harry and Ginny. At one point in my life, I likened them to my parents, as the perfect couple. Though, as fate would have it, even they had their problems. I admired their love for each other, and their will to make it through even the hardest of times. Not long ago, even Harry had left Ginny, hoping she could forget about him and start a new life for herself, and never once during that time, did I question his love for her.

Harry triumphed, but not everyone would.

"_What's on your mind?_" Draco asked, noticing the distant look in my eyes, leading us to one of the benches, where we sat and breathed in the crisp, cool air.

I didn't know where to start, nor what to say. The reason I took to counselling was to gain some clarity over past issues and lack of closure, in order to embark on another relationship without the constant compare and without that weight.

"_Just thinking about everything,_" I eventually said. "_ — about us._"

Draco directed his attention forward, where an imminent breeze ruffled through the tree tops and then, through the grass. It was serene, being outside at night, with the moon hovering overhead and with him, right there beside me.

I wondered then, if that feeling was peace.

Being completely and wholly assured, that there was a light, no matter how faint or how distant. It was there.

"_Draco?_" I asked him, watching as his eyes found mine. "_Thank you._"

"_Why are you thanking me?_" he smiled.

I mirrored the look on his face, wistful and calm. " — _because you're stubborn and you're persistent and you infuriate me more than anyone or anything,_" I started to say, without waver, watching the raise in his brows. "_ — but you're also patient, so patient, and so kindhearted and I think, more than anything, you inspire me. Thank you._"

It was the natural progression after that, when he leaned down and kissed me, on the forehead and then on the lips.

"_Ready to go?_" he asked, his lips still hovering over mine.

I nodded, closing my eyes as he Apparated us home.

**_Six Hours Later _**

It was distant, the tap on the glass.

I stretched into upright position, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness in the room, careful not to wake Draco. It was around three in the morning, far too late for Harry to be owling me with Auror duties. I thought, for a fleeting second, that Daphne had tapped into bridezilla mode and requested my opinion on something to do with flower arrangements or music, or perhaps Draco's opinion on the decor or the outfits.

But the owl tapping on the glass belonged to neither Harry nor Daphne, nor anyone else I would have expected to contact me at such an ungodly hour.

Resolved to let that poor owl inside and put an end to the tapping, I rose from bed and opened the latch, watching as the Barn Owl soared inside, finding its place on my desk. Its feathers were ruffled and messy, as though it had been flying through most of the night, with haste.

I ran my fingers through the feathers softly, coaxing a sound of approval from the creature, before lifting the roll of parchment from its pouch.

It was a note.

_Hermione,_

_Sorry for the lateness of this message. _

_I've been doing freelance work in the Northwest Territories, with a couple friends of mine, and through our work, we've managed to track down a person with whom I believe you are closely acquainted. _

_In other words, I found him. _

_Signed, _

_Miguel._

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><p><strong>AN: Thoughts?**

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	47. Chapter 47

**A/N: Chapter Forty-Seven. This one, I'll admit, is quite controversial.**

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><p>Draco stirred beside me, as I reentered the bed, curving my body against his. It was cool that night, but the temperature within me had risen, blurring my thoughts and distorting my senses. He turned to face me, waiting for his eyes to adjust, whilst steadily aware that I was not okay.<p>

"_Hermione,_" he murmured, using wandless magic to light the candle at his bedside table. "_What's wrong?_"

I swallowed hard, fingers shaking with the note in hand.

His eyes found the parchment, and without further word, he carefully lifted it from my loose hold and flattened the creases with his index finger and thumb. I watched him. I watched as those orbs traveled from left to right, as the fatigue slowly but surely faded from his features, leaving him aware and alert and quick to understand the situation at hand. It took three, maybe four seconds for him to look back at me.

In that moment, something changed.

He lowered the letter. "_When was this delivered?_"

"_Just now,_" I answered, regaining some composure.

Draco breathed in and then out, levelling his thoughts. It was a lot to take in, and I was well aware of that. I couldn't expect him to understand, to grasp the fact that I done this without telling anyone.

It was something I had done months upon months ago, long before the incident in the park and long before I decided to go to counselling.

I looked to Draco, prepared for his reaction, to be talked down and reminded that I was taking steps and recovering and no matter how slow, that I was finding balance in my life again. It was the smart, sensible reaction, the one I would have given him, had our roles been reversed.

But that was not what happened.

There were no words.

None.

What did happen, took me by storm and crashed over me in waves.

He set the letter down and curved his hands through my hair, drawing me towards him for a hard, emotionally-driven kiss. I gasped, sucking in what little oxygen I could, pushed backwards against the pillows, trembling beneath him as his heart hammered against mine, ignoring the knots in my chest and struggling to see through the thick fog that enveloped him, as he reached between my legs and shifted my panties to the side.

I didn't know what was happening, whether he was proving something to me, or to himself.

Either way, it happened quickly and left us muddled and slicked with sweat, in bed, chests rising and falling with insurmountable speed as we struggled to breathe. His hold on me loosened, and from there, we separated. I rolled to one side and felt his weight roll to the other.

An uncomfortable stillness followed.

I knew he was there, but also, that he wasn't.

"_Draco?_" I voiced, because the silence was unbearable. "_Please say something._"

It took him several seconds to respond, during which time I could feel the tremors than ran through his spine, confirming to me the depth of his fears and insecurities. I almost didn't want him to say anything, to just sleep and pretend nothing had ever happened, but I knew him too well to know he couldn't ignore the confusion and the haste and the turmoil that surrounded the last moment, as well as this one.

"_D — Did you want that?_" he stammered, bouts of horror in his tone, as though his mind had already been decided, as though the word had crossed his thoughts, and in its wake, left him hanging on the edge of that question.

I didn't have an answer.

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><p><strong>AN: Thoughts?**

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	48. Chapter 48

**A/N: Chapter Forty-Eight. **

**Small note - It's a little disconcerting to me, the sheer number of people who are victim-blaming Hermione in the review section, for something she had no control over? Like, what the heck. Not cool. I understand people are fans of Draco and want Hermione to end up with him, but this is a story about _her_,not _them_. It's fine to ship and all that, but let's not gloss over the fact that he did something wrong. If anyone's to blame, it's him. **

**Just because she didn't want to have sex with him one night, doesn't mean she's not interested in him, nor does it mean she's leading him on, as some people were quick to assume. **

**Ladies, gentlemen, it's okay to spend the night with your partner, without having sex with him/her. **

**I know it's quite a heavy subject but I felt it necessary to include something like this, as most relationships enter this grey area at one point or another, and this is a story about relationships. **

**Anyway, it kind of made me a little nauseated to read some of those reviews, so I felt I had to say something. **

**I hope you enjoy this chapter, and to anyone wondering, what happened will be handled accordingly in a future chapter. **

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><p>I moved from the bedroom, though the corridor and into the loo, from where there was steam swirling above and below the shower curtain. It was fairly late into the morning, which prompted me to believe Draco had gone home to reflect on what happened, on what he had done, leaving me to my own devices, as he had years ago, when we were young and stupid.<p>

But he had not left.

He was there.

In the shower.

Moments later, I left a trail of clothes from the door to the shower, hand hovering over the curtain, wondering whether this was the right decision. It took another three or four seconds to decide, and when I did, I carefully moved past the curtain and climbed in, with him there, naked, standing underneath the shower head; eyes closed and a pained look on his face. I realized then that the water was scalding hot, and without a moment of hesitation, I brushed past him and lowered the temperature.

He turned then, matching the look in my eyes with the one in his.

I absorbed that look, and allowed my eyes to drop from his, down his body, where his skin was coloured under the reddish hue of his mistakes.

Neither of us uttered so much as a word.

Seconds turned into minutes, and the water turned cold.

I stood across from him, waiting, shivering, shaking, chills crawling the length of my spine and back again, until he moved forward and held me, as though he didn't know what else to do.

It happened all at once.

I felt the same tremors that had coursed through his body the previous night, course through him then, coaxing me out of my numbed state of mind and into the moment, where water cascaded down our bodies, mixed with his hard, angry, guilt-ridden tears. It wasn't my duty to comfort him or to tell him he had done wrong but that I believed in him. I couldn't find those words, because I didn't have them. I had only the cold, hard facts, which were infused with the sounds and the images and the ache between my legs…as well as the ache that ran a little deeper.

Draco separated from me then, feeling me shake against him, crying, not because I was sad or scared — but confused, deeply confused.

"_I — I'll leave,_" he said to me, as though it were the solution I had craved, as though I didn't want him near me, as though the mere sight of him brought me back to that same full-bodied shock. "_I'll leave you alone. I — I never to meant to — I — I don't — I'm sorry._"

I watched on, blinking, breathing, taking note of the dark circles under his eyes and the redness that had yet to leave his skin, as he moved from the shower to the floor. In response, something pounded against my ribcage. It hit me hard; the slow, but steady realization that this was not the solution. I made motion to reach out for him, tripping over the side of the tub and into his arms, as he turned and caught me.

Our bodies slapped together, cold and damp and bare.

He said nothing, choosing only to look at me, whilst providing a through line into his own thoughts and fears, passage through the fog. I didn't know what to think, nor what to do. All I knew was there was a Port Key to Yellowknife with my name on it, and I had no intention of leaving without telling him goodbye.

**_One Hour Later _**

It was around three in the morning MDT (mountain daylight time) that I arrived in the Northwest Territories. There was snow over every surface, more snow than I had ever seen in a residential area. I stepped out from the abandoned bakery, where the Port Key had been located and found a tall, cloaked gentleman waiting for me outside. It took a moment for me to recognize him without his usual uniform and embellishments.

Miguel turned, smiling with his eyes and then jogging over to help me. I didn't bring much — some clothes and necessities in a ruck sack — but I assumed he was too much of a gentleman to let me tow even the smallest thing without offering his aid.

It happened, that a couple months after my visit to New York, Miguel had resigned from his slot as Senior Auror of the MCUSA and chose instead to do freelance work all over the continent, and sometimes in Europe. I met him a couple times in London and introduced him to Harry, as well as Sinead and the others. On the spot, Harry offered him a position with the British Ministry, but Miguel politely declined. I didn't ask questions and neither did Harry, but we both had the sneaking suspicion that Miguel, like me, had gone through a drastic life change and wanted nothing more than to travel and do what he loved in peace.

I wished that I had that luxury, but the people with whom I worked were more than co-workers. They were friends — family, really.

Though, that didn't stop me from wondering.

I followed Miguel across the street and into a truck, surprised that we were taking Muggle transportation, and a little excited as well. It had been ages since the last time I'd been on a road trip, and even though our drive wouldn't last more than a couple hours, it was still an adventure. I entered the passenger seat and buckled my seatbelt, nervous and excited and nervous.

Did I mention I was nervous?

It turned out Miguel was also Muggle-born, which made sense, as he knew how to drive a vehicle, as well as park one without ramming it into a tree. (cough _Ron_).

About one or two minutes passed, until the inside was warm and toasty, after which he pulled away from the curb and out, onto the street. There were no other cars on the road, which didn't surprise me, as it was quite late and the overall population of Yellowknife was less than twenty thousand. It was the capital, but it was still quite removed. I glanced up and marvelled at the gorgeous view from above — the stars, the constellations, the swirls of distant energy that escaped me back in London.

"_Nice, isn't it?_" said Miguel, taking note of the child-at-Christmas look on my face.

I nodded, rapidly.

He laughed, for the first time since I had known him. It was a peaceful drive; peaceful and relaxing. I switched the radio on, tuning through the static until we landed on something familiar.

This time, I laughed. "_Nothing like some Def Leppard to get the mood right…_"

Miguel shared my reaction, humming the tune of 'Photograph' under his breath, as I sang with Joe Elliott; shamelessly.

From there, the mood in the car escalated with the song and he eventually joined me in my rendition, knowing an impressive amount of the lyrics for someone whose parents hadn't met at an early _Def Leppard _concert, before the band were signed.

"_…hope all the night owls out there are enjoying the tunes…_" the radio disc jockey continued in a smooth (slightly creepy) night-line voice, as the song faded out. "…_next up we have a request from Mindy near Bear Lake, to play another classic from Def Leppard's 1983 album Pyromania…_"

I listened, slipping off my cloak and tying my hair into a top knot, as the air in the truck had gone from frosty to humid.

Miguel noticed through his peripheral vision and turned the heat down, looking a little hot around the collar himself. Though, he kept his cloak on.

The next song to come on was 'Rock of Ages' and after that, something slower and yet, equally familiar. It was 'How Soon is Now?' by _The Smiths_. Until then, I had almost forgotten my purpose in the Northwest Territories.

"_Looks like the Canadians are on a British kick,_" Miguel commented, failing to sense the change in my demeanour, as his eyes were on the road.

I forced a smile and nodded to him, though I didn't say anything. I waited until the song transitioned to another. I waited for Morrissey to stop drowning me in his voice and the lyrics and the constant, steady reminder that the time was now. It was a lot to handle, and until then, it hadn't occurred to me that perhaps I wasn't ready, that perhaps I should have waited.

But there was no time to wait.

If I waited any longer…

"_You good?_" Miguel asked, eyes flicking to me, as I hurriedly changed the station.

I looked to him, cheeks hot with embarrassment and the sudden urge to hurl myself from the window and into the snow, where at least I could sulk without being seen. But this wasn't about me. It was about someone else, someone whose eyes haunted me day and night — no matter what, no matter where, no matter who was with me or beside me or around me.

It was around that time, that the truck turned onto an unmarked dirt road. This proved to me we were close, and that time was running out. I fixed my attention to the sky and did what I could to distract myself from the gnawing and scratching of my insides.

"_How are Harry and his wife?_" the driver knew to ask, sensing that I was nervous.

I did what I could to restrain the tension that tugged at my chest muscles. "_They're doing well. Their son James turned two a few weeks ago, and they've another one on the way._"

" — _and how are you?_" he then asked, casual, though knowing.

"_Sunshine and rainbows,_" I winked.

"_That bad?_"

I shrugged. "_Could be worse. I could still be a teenager, on the run from evil Death Eaters._"

Miguel nodded. "_ — or you could be working for an asshole, like I used to._"

"_Or that,_" I agreed.

From there, our conversation faded into silence, as he pulled up next to the old Inn where we'd be spending the night. The Port Key back to London wasn't scheduled for another couple days. It was the only slot available from Yellowknife to London. That in mind, I followed Miguel inside.

There was no one at the desk, as it was late.

It was a quaint Inn, one that I was surprised had any business at all, until my fellow Auror took the time to explain that it was owned by a witch, and that it was connected to the Floo Network, which meant it was the only way in and out of the wizarding settlement about ten kilometres north of there.

Similar to _The Leaky Cauldron._

I quietly tiptoed to _Room 15_, where I'd be spending the next couple nights, and marvelled at the vintage look about the Inn, knowing it probably wasn't on purpose and that the rooms probably hadn't been renovated in decades. Nonetheless, it was clean and the bed looked comfy, which was all I could have wanted.

With that, I changed out of my clothes and into a fresh pair, consisting of a simple, navy blue jumper and some fitted jeans, then realizing that I should maybe have packed something a little less…usual.

"_I'll — uh — I'll wait for you in the lobby,_" Miguel said, from outside the door.

I opened my mouth to respond, but his footsteps echoed down the corridor before I could so much as shape my lips to the first word.

**_Twenty Minutes Later _**

It was difficult to walk down those stairs without the floorboards creaking, but I did what I could, and managed to make it halfway down before alerting the entire Inn that Hermione Granger was in the building — as no one apart from me could possibly be as graceless and clumsy. I ignored the nervousness in my stomach and made my way to the bottom of the stairs and into the lobby, having utilized the tiny owlery on the topmost floor to deliver my letters home.

"_Ready?_" Miguel asked.

I forced down the rush of reluctance that rose the length of my throat, and nodded, watching as he stepped into the fireplace, calling out the name of the wizarding settlement, before I followed his lead.

In a matter of seconds, I was propelled through the Floo Network and into another fireplace, losing balance and slamming to the soot covered floor. It was a hard fall, one that would surely bruise my arse come morning, but I couldn't sulk about that. I brushed the soot from my clothes as best I could, before stepping out of the fireplace and into the darkened area, which appeared to be the back room of some sort of pub. There were boxes everywhere and a fair collection of cobwebs. I used my wand for light and eventually found a door on the other side of the room, one that led me to the main area of the pub.

As it was late, there weren't many people. About five customers and one bartender, all of whom eyed me, as though they had been there for most of the night, had no plans to leave and rarely, if ever, had female company.

I ignored the looks and made my way to the door, thankful for the cold as it rushed up on me.

Miguel was there, waiting, having arrived in one of the neighbouring shops. "_Hard fall?_" he teased, noting the soot in my clothes and hair.

I hugged my cloak tighter and rolled my eyes at him, smiling nonetheless, as he led me through the village. It was nice and quaint, and reminded me of Hogsmeade, in that it was a distinctly wintery village and carried with it, the allure of something greater.

From there, we continued through the village and walked about two more minutes, in the snow, to the point that my jeans were soaked to the knees, before stopping in front of an old, cabin-style shop with gold lettering. It was an apothecary, and the moment I realized this, was the moment all that anxiety and nervousness and inner doubt snaked around my heart and squeezed.

"_I'll wait outside,_" Miguel told me, shoving his hands in his pockets in an effort to keep warm. "_Take your time in there._"

I choked, literally, unable to take another step. "_Maybe — Maybe this was a bad idea._"

The Auror arched his eyebrow at me. "_Come on,_" he reasoned. "_What happened to the badass witch who took down Jonathan Young in one move?_"

I swallowed hard. "_Honestly — I — I don't think I can —_"

"_Here,_" he interjected, reaching into his cloak and handing me what looked like a flask. "_Some liquid courage never hurt anyone._"

This time, I arched my eyebrow at him, though not before taking hold of that flask and chugging more than half its contents. Around seven seconds later, I breathed in and then out, wiping the moisture from my lips and tossing the near-empty flask to him.

Miguel gaped at me, eyes and mouth wide open, with a mixture of amusement and alarm tugging at his face muscles.

It was then, somewhere between stupidly courageous and stupidly buzzed, that I moved past him and towards the door, lifting the charms and locks, with one wave of my wand, and then watching, carefully, as the doorknob clicked open, sending shockwaves through me, the moment I stepped inside.

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><p><strong>AN: Thoughts?**

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	49. Chapter 49

**A/N: Chapter Forty-Nine!**

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><p>It was significantly darker than I had imagined, with an air of occultism ingrained within the walls and the long, rectangular floorboards. I looked from left to right, in something of a daze, noting the shelving and the cupboards and the various jars and containers with ingredients — both legal and almost legal. It was unlike the apothecary in Diagon Alley. I could tell, from one look, that there were no children rushing in and out of this particular apothecary, hastily purchasing potions supplies before start-of-term.<p>

For this place, I imagined a different clientele; one that echoed behind the door situated on the far side of the shop (large, mahogany, brass handle); one that gave the owner reason to keep his shop meticulously clean, as though hiding his tracks.

Something told me Miguel's sources were wrong.

An unnerving feeling tugged at my chest, and from there, Mad-Eye Moody's voice echoed in the back of my mind, as it usually did in an unstable situation.

_Constant vigilance, _I thought, again and again, whispering those same words under my breath, tracing a single digit down the length of my wand, as though the action of doing so brought its magic to life.

It occurred to me, that I should probably have turned back and alerted Miguel that something was awry, but I didn't. I stood there, at the ready, prepared for whatever waited for me on the side of that door — feeling the same tendril of uncertainty tug at my chest, the moment that brass handle twisted open.

One second

Two seconds

Three.

"_Granger…_"

I braced myself, uncertain as to whom _or what _lay beyond that door, squeezing my wand so hard that I was sure I had lost circulation, prepared to fire whatever spells necessary, should the need arise, and doing my absolute best to — _wait_. **I knew that voice. I knew that inflection. **

"_Granger,_" he said again, closer this time.

Without thinking, without realizing, my eyes had fluttered shut before the door had so much as hovered an inch. In that moment, I forced them open, blinking hard, adjusting to the darkness and then, to the sight before me.

Dressed in black, with his lucky leather jacket and biker boots, and his hair messily coiffed, as though we were teenagers again, was Theodore Nott. In that moment, I was transported back to the dungeons, back to my sixth year, back to the second I had properly laid eyes on him. Tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed and Slytherin. Merlin, another second and I swear to you, I could have fainted.

But the thrilling, heart stopping, earth shattering surrealism that swept over me — mind, body and soul — came to a crashing halt, the moment he stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight.

I lowered my gaze and noticed the cane under his left hand, supporting his weight, looking fairly worn, as though he'd been using it a long time. Then came his eyes, sunken and weary, with whispers of blue, as opposed to the oceans I remembered. I swallowed hard, holding back the rush of emotion that pooled around my eyes, and released several sharp expulsions of air, overcome with all the feelings at once — again and again and again.

From there, there was no hesitation.

His cane clattered to the hardwood floor, echoing after him, as he moved towards me, limping as fast as he could, struggling, holding back the strain in his eyes and his muscles, with silent tears streaming down his hollowed cheeks, whilst knocking the air from both our lungs in one swift move, as he found me in the centre of the room and for the first time in over two years, reminded me what it was like to be held by a man as strong and as noble and as flawlessly unselfish as Theodore Nott.

Chills.

From head to toe.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I should mention that I'm going on hiatus. I need time to clear my head. Anyway, what are you thoughts? **

**Cheers**

**xo.**

**(Draco fans: No, this does not mean she has "chosen" Nott. Right now, we don't know what this means.) **


	50. Chapter 50

**A/N: Chapter Fifty!**

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><p>I followed him into the upstairs area, where I assumed he lived. It was small, but tidy and reminded me of his room in the Puddlemere house. Only, there were various walking sticks and even a wheelchair tucked in the corner. Seeing those things left a knot in my stomach; a knot that tightened as he returned from the kitchen with a couple beers. I couldn't remember the last time I had beer, but I did know it was with him, maybe one or two months before the Katherine incident. As of late, I found myself looking back to those days, before we fell in love and before things turned so complicated. It was simple then, being friends and having him there, down the corridor, where I could call out to him and banter, as we used to. Innocent and carefree.<p>

Nott looked to me then, popping the caps from both our bottles. His gaze weighed heavy, though not as much as his hand on mine. "_I owe you an apology_," he voiced, waiting for my eyes to fall on him, which they did. "_I owe you everything, really_."

"_You don't owe me anything_," I voiced back, sincere.

"_Granger_, _what happened in that Hospital Wing _—"

"_Let's not talk about the Hospital Wing_."

His expression wavered. "_Isn't that why you came here? For an explanation_."

"_No_," I said to him, unsure about the entire ordeal. "_I came here to see you. Things are — Things are complicated right now and I just — I had to see you._"

It was then that something clicked behind those blue eyes of his. "_Draco?_"

Just from that, just from the simple fact that he could pinpoint the problem, after having spent two years in a different continent, was the reason I knew going to the Northwest Territories in search for Theodore Nott was far from a mistake. The knot in my stomach loosened, and I exhaled, having a drink. From the moment I had left London, to then, I had avoided the single issue that was my relationship with Draco Malfoy.

Nott studied me, weighing the possibilities in his mind, as though he could see straight through my defences and into the fabric of my being. I didn't speak, as I wasn't sure what to say or how to say it. In truth, I didn't want him to know the details of what had transpired prior to my arrival. Growing up, Draco was his best friend. Several times during his childhood, he had retreated to Draco's home, after having fought with his father or otherwise. There was a close, complex friendship between the two. It was low maintenance and carried with it, years of history. Similar to mine and Harry's friendship. Although we didn't speak everyday, the trust and loyalty was there. Same was true for Nott and Draco. For that reason, and that reason alone, I felt I couldn't tell him the truth.

In part, because I didn't want to speak those words out loud, but also because I wasn't sure about the truth. **By definition, sex without prior consent is rape**. It's an uncomplicated, straight forward way to observe the issue. It's something I would preach to any friend or family member to ever find his or herself in a similar situation. But there was one problem in the grand scheme of things, one thing that drew me to Draco the morning after and confused me more than I had ever anticipated.

I didn't feel raped. I didn't feel degraded or disrespected, as victims of rape are supposed to. No, he didn't wait for my consent and no, I wasn't in the mood for sex, but even he could tell, moments after, that what he had done was on some level, wrong.

Did I feel he would do it again? No.

I was sure, down to my bones, that he wouldn't so much as kiss me. It was written all over him, the night of, the morning after, and moments before I had left for Yellowknife. He seemed shocked when I told him I would write him, as though he didn't deserve contact. Part of me pitied him, but another part of me wondered what was so wrong with me, that I didn't feel half as hurt as I should have.

If anything, I felt distant.

"_Granger?_"

I looked to Nott, having disappeared into the labyrinth that was my thoughts. "_Yes?_"

"_Would it be all right to hug you?_" he asked, eyes flicking to me. "_You look like you could use one._"

I smiled weakly, setting my bottle on one of the tables and watching as he did the same. There were moments, being there, wherein I'd simply look at him, at his face and his eyes and his arms and his chest and his legs and his hair. I couldn't believe he was in front of me, and I couldn't believe the feeling that burst through me, when we touched. It happened down in the shop and it happened then, in the attached flat. Nott scooted closer to me and melded our bodies together in a hug. I tried to keep my composure. I tried not to hold him too hard or squeeze him too tight. I didn't know the details of his physical condition. I knew only what I had observed, which was a significant change, one that rippled through me with every second I spent in his presence.

Suddenly, he was in my life again.

It overwhelmed me, but at the same time it calmed me.

I was unbelievably happy and relieved to be near him, but the emotions that followed echoed emptiness and despair, because I knew this was temporary. There would be a day (soon, in fact) when I would wake up in a world without Theodore Nott. It was inevitable. He was going to die.

"_You're shaking,_" he observed, combing through my hair. "_Tell me what's wrong, Hermione._"

I closed my eyes, breathing in his scent, using it to calm the jumble of emotions in my gut. "_I can't,_" I whispered to him. "_Just…lay down with me._"

Without asking, without furthering the topic, Nott did as I requested and lowered us to the bed. It was the same as before, years ago, after the New Year's Eve party at Daphne's. Just us, in bed, facing one another with mirroring looks.

"_Come home,_" I murmured, drowning in those oceans. "_Just cut the shit and come home already._"

He smiled then. "_I missed your foul language._"

"_I'll shout rare and unique expletives at you everyday, if you pack your things right now and take the Port Key to London with me,_" I vowed, smiling back. "_Promise._"

"_You don't leave for another couple nights,_" he teased.

I rolled my eyes. "_You know what I mean._"

"_I do._"

From there, our conversation faded into comfortable silence. I blinked and breathed, unable to tear my eyes away from him, feeling our hands slowly come together in the narrow space between us. It had been ages, and yet, our minds and bodies were still in tune with one another. His eyes flicked to my lips, and I knew, from the second it took for colour to find his hollowed cheeks, that the thought of kissing me had lingered in the back of his mind, only to surface as we lay there.

Again, I didn't know his physical condition and I didn't have the courage to bring it up, so I did nothing. I kept still, less than twelve inches from him, blinking and breathing, watching him, practically listening to his internal debate.

"_You know,_" I started to say. "_Coming here, I had this whole speech prepared. I was going to burst through the front door of wherever you've been and demand you explain yourself, because that's what I visualized for the past two years._"

"_But?_" he furthered.

"_Oh, I still plan on doing that, just, you know, later._"

Nott cracked a smile at this. "_Once a nutter, always a nutter._"

"_So tempted to smack you right now._"

"_Do it,_" he challenged. "_Merlin knows I deserve at least one._"

I tossed him a knowing look. "_I'm obviously not going to hit you._"

His face screwed a moment, before he realized. "_It'll take a lot more than a measly slap from Hermione Granger to hurt the powerful and mighty Theodore Nott._"

I snorted with laughter. "_Once a twat, always a twat._"

"_Oh…now you're going to get it, Granger._"

"_Really?_" I asked, hoping I sounded somewhat unimpressed.

He nodded, moving closer to me. "_Close your eyes._"

I opened my mouth to protest, but followed his instruction nonetheless, silently wondering whether he was actually going to smack me. I mean, he obviously wasn't going to because he was Theo, but he was definitely up to something. I figured he would tickle me, as he already knew my spots, and from there, I mentally prepared for the torture that would soon consume every inch of my body, until something unexpected swept over my lips.

He kissed me.

It was light and lasted about three seconds, before I had the chance to respond, but it happened. I opened my eyes afterwards, breathing deeply.

Another few seconds passed, wherein neither of us said anything. I couldn't believe he had done that. I mean, I was into it and wanted him to do it again, but I still couldn't believe he had done that. It made no sense for him to do that, after maintaining distance between us for two whole years. What was the point of breaking up with me and fleeing the continent, if he had it in him to kiss me like nothing happened?

"_Things are complicated right now,_" I explained. "_Between me and Draco._"

Theo nodded, knowingly. "_I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. It — It was selfish and stupid and —_"

"_Do it again,_" I murmured to him, catching his gaze, watching, waiting, hanging over the edge of the last second. "_Before I change my mind._"

A moment of silence followed, as though he were waiting for me to change my mind and object. I didn't. I simply waited and delved deeper and deeper into whatever was happening, until it happened again.

"_Like this?_" he murmured back, brushing a hand under my chin and smoothing our lips together. "_Or like this…_"

I inhaled deeply, vibrations erupting from my core to the tips of my toes and back again, as his tongue danced across the slit between my lips, coaxing them apart and deepening the kiss. It was a smooth, sensual deliverance, one that left me breathless and begging for more, with the tug of his collar and the arch in my back. He was no different. His hands found my hair and then my sides, skimming along the bottom hem of my top with his fingertips, grazing my skin with his.

This time around, it lasted longer than three seconds.

Within the next moment, I curved one leg around him and slowly straddled him, caught in the heat and the overwhelming reality of being with him again. His hands fell to my hips and from there, it could have happened. I could feel it.

"_Hold — Hold on —_"

Theo separated from me, lips swollen and even more kissable than when we started. "_What's wrong?_"

By this point, I was breathing hard, mentally cursing myself. "_Sorry, I just — I spent the past two years trying to get over you and — and now that you're here — in front of me — I — I just —_"

"_It's okay,_" he told me. "_We don't have to do anything. It was my fault for —_"

"_Do you still love me?_" I asked, before I could stop myself.

He paused, looking at me. "_Of course I do._"

I exhaled, realizing then that I'd been holding my breath.

From there, we retreated to our sides; still close but distant, in that we were absorbed in our thoughts. I didn't know exactly what he was thinking, but I knew it had to do with what almost happened. I could see it reflected in those oceans, lapping over me again and again, demolishing the barrier between us as though it were made of sand.

"_I broke up with you,_" he started to say, brushing the hair from my face. "_But that doesn't mean I stopped loving you, you nutter._"

I pouted. "_You're ruining the moment._"

"_What can I do to fix it?_"

"_Tell me everything,_" I voiced, staring between his eyes, hinting at what he had been doing all this time, for the past two years. "_Do you think you can do that?_"

"_I can do that,_" he nodded, finding my hand with his, as we lay there. "_It started with my Port Key from London to New York…_"

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><p><strong>AN: Thoughts?**

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	51. Chapter 51

**A/N: Chapter Fifty-One!**

* * *

><p>The moment he mentioned New York, an irreversible knot twisted around my chest and tightened. In an instant, my thoughts drifted to Atticus Grant. Now, I wasn't sure where Grant was based, but I did know enough to gather the fact that my former roommate had sought him out. From there, I noticed several things laying around the flat. Rare ingredients. Random names and instructions scribbled down on scraps of parchment. Potions books that were banned in most of Europe, as well as the US. I wasn't quite clear on the Canadian Potion Making laws, but I did know Canada had always been a little more liberal than its counterparts. In terms of research and other things.<p>

Around one minute into our conversation, Nott left the room to grab some more beer for us, during which time I had a gander at the books and the scraps of parchment pasted to the walls.

"_Find anything interesting?_"

I turned, cheeks enflamed as he hovered under the doorway that connected the main room from the small kitchen; beers in hand. "_Erm — no. Just — Just noticed some of your books and —_"

"_Atticus lent them to me,_" he explained, cracking open one of the beers and taking a swig. "_Atticus Grant, I mean._"

The knot tightened, leaving me breathless and a little dazed, to the point that I couldn't stop myself from asking. "_Have you been researching a cure?_" I blurted, staring between his hooded blue eyes, watching as he made his way from the table to me, contemplating his response.

"_No,_" he answered, carefully.

I closed my eyes, blocking the emotion that flooded in and around them.

Nott came to me then, taking me by the hand and guiding me from the bookshelf to the trunk near his bed. I thought nothing of it, wondering what he could possibly be doing, until he released me and knelt down, struggling to control his balance without his walking stick, and proceeding to unlatch the lid on the trunk.

"_I haven't been researching a cure,_" he reiterated, lifting a rectangular wooden box from within the trunk, and in the moment that followed, opening it to reveal a thin vial of murky liquid. "_I've been developing one._"

**_Later That Night_**

It was around midnight, when I left the apothecary and stumbled into the pub, from which I had entered the village. I noticed several eyes on me, following my movement, but I paid them no mind. There was too much to think about, too much I wanted to forget. That in mind, I slipped into one of the bar stools and ordered firewhiskey on the rocks, lusting for something stronger than beer and harder than wine. In that exact moment, someone slipped into the stool beside me and I turned to find Miguel.

"_How'd it go?_" he asked, in that gruff, masculine voice, nursing what looked like regular Irish whiskey.

I chose not to respond, and instead nodded thanks to the bartender as he slid me a fine glass of Ogden's Old.

Miguel arched his eyebrow, watching as I downed it in one go and proceeded to order another. "_Granger, as sexy as it is to watch you pound whiskey like it's water, I'm going to need some sort of indication that I didn't make a mistake, by leaving you with that guy._"

"_His name is Theodore Nott,_" I vocalized, neither aggressive nor saddened — but distant.

"_All right, well, what happened?_"

I breathed in, levelling my thoughts and the freight train of emotion that charged through my bloodstream. "_Do you remember Atticus Grant?_"

Miguel paused a moment, before nodding. "_The old man with the chirpy girlfriend. Go on._"

In response to this, I told him everything, swirling my drink and watching as the liquid splashed over the ice cubes, like waves crashing over the edge of a cliff. It started when Nott left for New York and found Atticus Grant, despite his sharp distaste for experimental Healers and especially those with _miracle cures. _From there, the pair of them teamed up. Grant extended his earlier research and resources, leaving Nott to do the impossible and develop said cure, using the notes and materials provided. As I had discovered that very morning, Nott had been successful in brewing a cure, utilizing illegal, black market ingredients and cutting off contact with each and every person he had ever held dear to him, out of fear that the authorities would link his loved ones to his crimes, should they discover his illegal practices. It so happened that I, the woman with whom he had been involved, happened to be an accomplished, highly publicized Auror and for that reason, as well as many others, he had kept me out of the loop. Suddenly, the distance and lack of contact made sense.

I realized quickly, that he had been protecting me…the entire time.

It wasn't an easy position to be in, and as an Auror, I knew the consequences for illegal potion making. A fifteen year sentence, as well as loss of certification for Nott, as both a Healer and practitioner of potion making.

In finding him, I had unwittingly walked both myself and Miguel into an intense conflict of interest.

"_If you're worried I'll report him — don't be,_" Miguel said to me. "_Even if I wanted to report him, which I don't, his crimes are not within my jurisdiction. I was stationed in the Northwest Territories to bring down a sociopathic wand-maker — not your boyfriend._"

"_Draco is my boyfriend,_" I stated, explicit, though mostly for me, to hear those words out loud. " — _not Theo._"

Miguel flashed me a knowing look. "_Semantics,_" he reasoned. "_Point is, you have nothing to worry about. I'm no snitch._"

I absorbed his words and the obvious frustration that tugged at my face muscles, wanting nothing more than to drown in my drink and wake up in a different reality. But that wasn't going to happen.

"_What's really bothering you?_" he asked, seeing through my defences as though they were made of glass.

"_Am I that transparent?_" I furthered.

He didn't respond. He merely waited for me to continue, to provide him with the one crucial piece of information I had withheld.

I waited until the last second, closing my eyes and doing what I could to remain calm, as the words found me, one after the other. "_The cure only works on patients in the first and second stages,_" I explained. "_Nott surpassed those stages months ago…meaning…_"

"_Dios…_" Miguel vocalized, concern in his deep, dark brown eyes. "_I'm so sorry, Hermione._"

"_Don't be,_" I told him, knocking back another drink. "_Yes, he left home and spent two years developing a cure that is now useless to him, but it's not useless to others. In — In doing this, he's saving lives. Young, innocent lives. It's nothing to be upset about. It's — It's a good thing._"

Another few seconds passed, before Miguel placed an empathetic hand on my shoulder. "_You should be over there in that apothecary, with him right now._"

In that moment, I glanced down. "_It's too risky._"

"_Risky?_" Miguel repeated. "_How?_"

"_Being near him feels too much like home,_" I confessed, thinking back to what happened between us and how wrong it was, but how right it felt. "_We kissed…twice._"

The man nodded, as though he had suspected something like this had happened. But the look that found his facial features was not one of disappointment or disgust, in knowing I had cheated on my boyfriend. It was more understanding than anything else, as though the situation hit closer to home than I thought it would.

"_Don't worry about it,_" he said to me. "_Losing someone you love is never easy._"

I turned to him then, hearing those words reverberate in the back of my mind, prompting me to ask the question that lingered between us since we met back in New York. "_Tell me, Hernandez. What's your story?_"

He waited a moment and then smiled to me, lazily, focusing on his drink and then the music. That night, Fleetwood Mac was on repeat, and I had a feeling my partner in crime had certain memories attached to these songs.

"_Her name was_ _Carmen_," he started to say. "_We were from the same neighbourhood in East Harlem__. I always had a thing for Carmen. She had this smile…_" he then said, unknowingly raising a hand to his lips. "_The kind of smile people write songs about, you know?_"

I knew. I knew too well.

"_Anyway, about two months after we graduated from school, I convinced Carmen to go out with me,_" he furthered, speaking distantly but fondly. "_It's been years since then and I still don't know what she saw in me, but it was enough to move in with me and eventually tie the knot._"

"_You were married?_" I asked, taken aback.

Miguel tucked a couple fingers inside his collar and pulled out a chain with a ring looped around it. "_Still am,_" he whispered, pressing the ring to his lips, wearing a matching ring on his left hand. "_She was, uh, diagnosed with cancer a couple weeks after we took down Jonathan Young at the Met Gala. Later that year, she passed._"

I blinked, heartbroken. "_So recent…_" I came to realize. "_If you don't mind me asking, is that why you left the MCUSA?_"

He nodded.

"_I'm so sorry…_"

"_Don't be,_" he voiced, mirroring our earlier discussion. "_If that hadn't happened to me, I wouldn't have cared enough to help you._"

It was a rather abrupt response, but honest. I appreciated that about Miguel. He wasn't one to sugarcoat things. He was real. Kind of like Astoria, but without the camera and the sharp tongue.

"_Besides that…_" he furthered, brushing his hair back and then the corners of his eyes, when he thought I wasn't looking. "_What are you gonna do about Draco?_"

I exhaled, doing what I could to ignore the heaviness in my chest. "_No idea. Tell him, I suppose. That's the right thing to do._"

"_Whatever you decide, make sure you do it for yourself and no one else,_" he advised, in a way that confirmed to me where he stood on the spectrum. "_As a man, I can tell you we're pretty much one hundred percent full of shit and that we'll say or do anything to get what we want._"

"_That's reassuring,_" I smiled, laughter on my lips.

Miguel returned my smile. "_You know me. __Just keepin' it real with you._"

"_Cheers to that._"

From there, we finished our drinks and headed back to the Inn, where we bid one another good night in the corridor and slipped into our separate rooms. I made motion for the loo, turning the tap on and using cold water to sober me up, shivering a little as the first splash went down my shirt and acted as adhesive between my skin and the cotton fabric. I hurriedly yanked the shirt off and moved to the bed, on top of which I had another change of clothes laid out for me. It was a simple t-shirt and jeans combo, and as I reached to slip on the shirt, there was a knock on my door.

I turned to the barrier and arched an eyebrow. "_Who is it?_"

"_It's me,_" someone answered, from the other side. "_Theo._"

Something tugged at my chest muscles, before I rushed to the door and opened it to reveal the man of the hour, dressed in the same clothes but with his hair a mess, as though he'd rushed to the Inn as fast as he physically could. "_Come — Come in,_" I urged, ushering him inside and closing the door. "_Are you okay? Did something happen?_"

"_I'm fine,_" he made sure to state, following me to the foot of the bed and leaning his walking stick against the wall, before we sat down, across from one another. "_I — erm — I know it's late and I'm sorry to bother you at such an hour, but I came here to tell you that I — I've decided to take you up on that offer._"

A rush of emotion pooled over my heart.

"_I think it's time for me to go home,_" he furthered, drawing me so deep into his eyes, that it was a damned miracle I didn't drown. "_ — to England._"

"_Really?_" I asked, hanging on the edge.

Theo nodded, glancing down a moment. "_It's the only way I can try to legalize the cure. I need to be there and prove to the Ministry that this cure is no joke,_" he explained, shifting his gaze to me as more seconds passed. " —_ and I've wasted too much time avoiding the people I love._"

I couldn't help but smile, fighting the trembling sensation that moved through my lips. "_We need you. All of us. Draco, especially._"

In the next few moments, something changed in Nott's expression, as though a lingering back thought had surfaced in the space of four seconds. I could see it in his eyes and the way he looked at me.

"_Do you love him?_" he asked.

I swallowed hard, doing what I could to ignore the knot in my chest. "_He's my boyfriend,_" I then said, in a way that deepened those lingering questions and caused that same knot to tighten, forcing me to shift my gaze in another direction, above water level, where I could breathe and collect my thoughts. "_I shouldn't have kissed you. It shouldn't have happened the way that it did. I — I'm sorry. I'm sorry._"

Theo said nothing for a long time, collecting his own thoughts, allowing the atmosphere between us to deepen, before speaking. "_I'm not._"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thoughts?**

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	52. Chapter 52

**A/N: Chapter Forty-Two! Long one.**

* * *

><p>Here's the thing, about mine and Draco's relationship. I cared for him, deeply. Yes, he made mistakes and acted on instinct, rather than logic, but the same was true for me. We were imperfect creatures. In fact, all the <em>characters<em> in this _story_ were (and still are) imperfect in some way or another. Astoria was vindictive. Blaise was indecisive. Ron was distrustful. Daphne was bossy. Harry neglected his wife. Ginny cheated on her husband. Nott—_yes, even Nott_—was self-sacrificing to the extent that I questioned his sanity on more than one occasion.

Then there was Miguel.

I didn't know much about him, other than the fact that he was a good man to have at ones side — be it on the battlefield or in life — and that his wife had passed only a couple years before Yellowknife. Carmen. It was a shame to me, that he couldn't find it within himself to go home and visit her resting place, but I supposed different people mourned loss in different ways.

Luckily, I had Nalini, for when the weight rested too heavy.

**_One Week Later _**

It was raining that afternoon, mid-February.

In the back of my mind, I was aware that the fourteenth was fast approaching. Most women at work were seen with flowers and chocolates and teddy bears, speaking of celebrations for Saint Valentine's commemoration. I, on the other hand, had no such plans, as my relationship had been left on an indefinite break. Draco wasn't pleased when I told him about the kiss(es). Naturally, he was ecstatic to know his best friend was back, but there was an air of distance between them, even then, and it didn't go unnoticed. It was my fault. I had toyed with both their hearts (à la Elena Gilbert) and in doing so, created a rift between the two.

Quite heedless, now that I think back. Though, as the saying goes, hindsight is 20/20. At the time, I felt I owed it to myself to visit with Nott and explore the complexities of our open-ended relationship, but I had not anticipated the feeling that swept over me, seeing him again that first time. It was reckless and stupid to kiss him, whilst I was in a relationship with another man (his best friend, no less). For that reason, I had no qualms about taking full responsibility for my careless actions. I mean, yes, I was feeling insecure and uncertain about my relationship with Draco — given what happened the night before I left London — but cheating was unforgivable and inexcusable.

I think the worst bit was Draco's lack of surprise. He expected it. More than that, he accepted it, making a point to ask me whether the kiss was about closure or renewal.

Right on cue, my indecision widened the figurative distance between us, and with that, we were on one of those undetermined and frustratingly ambiguous breaks (à la Ross and Rachel).

I tried not to think about it like that (as most of us know how that situation turned out). Instead, I focused on work and sleeping at a decent hour. Even one week later, jet-lag was a struggle. It was such a struggle, in fact, that Daphne had been forced to prescribe me Sleeping Draught. Without the potion, I woke up multiple times during the night and couldn't sleep for more than thirty minutes at a time. There was a lot on my mind, a lot I had to mull over and a lot that worried me.

More than once, I wrote to Nott, unable to sleep until his response came soaring in through my bedroom window, proving to me he was still alive and breathing. Upon his return to England, he found residence at the Puddlemere house, as most of his belongings were still there. For obvious reasons, I didn't visit him as often as I would have liked, having only seen him once since his return. Even then, the entire gang had been there. Including Draco.

Awkward.

Either way, the situation didn't appear as though it would sort itself out with time. I had to do something. I had to make a decision and stick with it.

Bearing that weight, I continued to work through the stack of parchment on my desk, filing and marking, with the occasional look at my wristwatch, checking more than once too see if the minute-hand was stuck in the same position, pointing at nine o'clock for what felt like an eternity, until someone knocked on my door. With an almost possessed state of delight, I waved the door open with wandless magic and found Corvus Carrow standing there.

"_Corvus,_" I acknowledged, rather astonished. "_Pleasure to see you._"

The young man entered, leaving the door open, thinner than the list time I'd seen him, but still healthy. I learned from Sinead that he had recently crossed over into the second stage. "_Ms. Granger,_" he started, looking at me, bearing an uncanny resemblance to young Harry, with dark hair and with a certain weight to his gaze that was unusual for someone so young. "_I'm sorry to bother you at such an inconvenient time, but I hoped to gain your assistance on a rather crucial matter._"

There was a raise in my brow, before I beckoned him forward. "_It's no problem,_" I assured him, having waited hours for something or someone to distract me from certain things. "_What can I do for you?_"

"_I…I need help with an important document,_" he explained, hesitant.

It should have been obvious, by that point, but I remained ignorant. "_What sort of document?_"

Corvus shifted his attention to the floor, clearing his throat. "_My…will._"

"_Oh._"

His face blanched. "_I…I understand this puts you in a rather difficult position, and I apologize for that, but, as you may know, I have neither a parent nor an older mentor to help me with this matter, as they've either passed or been sentenced life in Azkaban, and…and Sinead always has the best things to say about you. Even so, I'll hold no grudge…should you decline._"

With moist-eyes, I listened, heart swelling the size of Jupiter. "_I'd love to help._"

"_Really?_" he asked, dropping the formality, eyes bright.

I nodded, smiling at him now, thinking about all the wonderful things Sinead had to say about him, and the manner in which he treated her, with such care and compassion, that it was shocking he shared the same bloodline as Alecto and Amycus. It was then, watching as he pulled a chair to my desk, bright and filled with eagerness, that I realized how…unfortunate of a circumstance this truly was.

"_Corvus,_" I started, catching his eyes. "_If you don't mind me asking…how old are you?_"

He paused, as though he'd realized my train of thought. "_Nineteen._"

Something clasped around my lungs, forcing the oxygen out. I exhaled, deeply worried that Nott's cure wouldn't be legalized in time.

"_Is something wrong?_" Corvus asked, unbeknownst to the recent development.

I lapsed in thought, reminded that I had to keep certain pieces of information a secret, before shaking my head and turning the corners of my lips into a caring smile. "_Come. Let's have a look at that will._"

**_Later That Evening_**

Daphne spun in a dazzling circle, allowing the skirts on her dress to fan out in waves upon waves of ivory. I was, for lack of better words, jealous as fuck. Not so much over the dress or the fact that she was getting married (to my ex _cough_) but more so over the fact that she had such an amazing body. I wasn't lying, in the earlier chapters, when I described her as tall, thin and beautiful. She was a vision, and I was actually a little emotional over the fact that she and Ron were finally tying the knot. In a good way, of course.

"_He did a banging job,_" she remarked, standing in front of the three-way mirror propped in her massive, walk-in closet. "_Just look at the detail around the waistline, my goodness! And to think, he won't accept payment for his work._"

I raised both eyebrows. "_Draco designed that for free?_"

She nodded. "_An early wedding present._"

"_How…thoughtful,_" I voiced, blinking. "_So, when is the wedding exactly? I don't remember receiving an invitation in the post._"

Daphne tossed me a cheeky wink. "_We're trying to decide between June 10th and June 12th. I know it's last minute and that we should have sent the invitations months ago, but the venue was fully booked for an entire year, until a couple of cancelations late last week, which has really put all the planning under a massive time crunch…but…both myself and Ron decided it would be better to have this wedding sooner rather than later, as we want all our friends and family to be there._" Her voice wavered a little, during that last bit, confirming to me that Nott's life expectancy played a part in hers and Ron's decision. Needless to say, I was touched. "_Anyway, the planner has arranged for our invitations to be delivered next week, so, make sure to check your post!_"

I smiled. "_Will do._"

"_Also,_" she started, turning to me, smiling something sinister. "_I've a surprise for you._"

"_Will it hurt?_"

She paused, laughing. "_What? Never…_"

I laughed with her, shrugging as she led me from the closet to the upstairs lounge, where there was a box laid out on the leather ottoman, white and rectangular, distinctly familiar.

"_For you,_" Daphne smiled.

With a curious look on my face and an audible voice in the back of my mind, telling me what was about to happen, I carefully opened the box and found a single card with my name on it. "_Dearest Hermione,_" I read aloud, falling to one of the sofa's, beside Daph. "_I've tried, time and again, to write this message with as much care and adoration as I feel in my heart, but I always seem to fall short. Why? I'm not quite sure, though I feel it has to do with how much respect and admiration I have, for you. To put it simply, I look up to you, to your intelligence and your bravery and your compassion. Never in my life, have I met anyone with quite as much room in their heart, as you, and for that reason, I am deeply proud to have you as a friend, and if you would allow it, a bridesmaid as w —_" Something pooled over my heart, and I turned to Daphne, actual tears in my eyes, joyful and surprised, reflected in the hazel of hers. "_Daphne!_" I exclaimed. "_Oh, my goodness! Yes! Yes, of course I'll be your bridesmaid!_"

The soon-to-be bride laughed with me, smiling, tearing up, returning my embrace with heartwarming sentiment.

From there, we dabbed the corners of our eyes and I turned back to the rectangular box, lifting the tailor made bridesmaid dress out of its confines, whilst Daphne waved at her face with both hands.

"_This is absolutely stunning,_" I voiced, divinely taken by the design. It was a floor length emerald green number, reminding me of Keira Knightley's famous dress in the film _Atonement_, sultry and romantic. I couldn't wait to wear it, unable to tear my eyes from the gorgeous material, until it dawned on me. "_Did…Draco design this?_"

Daphne moved her head _yes_, unaware that we were on a break. "_He was very adamant about that colour on you, and I have to say, it suits Astoria, Ginny and Tracey, as well,_" she explained. "_I'll admit, the man does know a thing or two about fashion._"

I absently nodded, wondering how long he'd been working on the dress with me in mind. In that moment, something unexpected tugged at my chest muscles and I forced a smile, setting the dress back in the box, as to not damage it with my terrible luck, and met again with Daphne on the sofa. From there, we fell into discussion about floral arrangements and partners for the wedding party. Where things stood, Astoria and Neville were paired; Tracey and George were paired; Ginny (who was four months along and would then be eight months) and Harry were paired; leaving yours truly to be paired with none other than Charlie.

Greeeeat.

It wasn't ideal, but I couldn't object. To my knowledge, Daphne and Ron remained unaware of the details involving mine and Charlie's almost-hook-up. I'm sure I could have changed Daphne's mind and instead been paired with either Neville or George, but I figured someone as mature and levelheaded as Charlie—well, sort of levelheaded—would be no problem.

**_Two Days Later _**

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Thus mellow'd to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade more, one ray less,

Had half impair'd the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o'er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

Thought I'd slip in some Lord Byron for Saint Valentine's Day. I always felt a little deprived at Hogwarts, as there were no classes for the arts, but I did have the breadth of poetry within my mother's and father's collections to fawn over during break. Regardless, before any of the men written about in this memoir, I had a long, drawn out love affair with Lord Byron and his tastefully erotic soul searching. You question is, did I masturbate to poetry as a fourteen-year-old girl? My answer, how dare you, madam. _Stalks off. _Point is, men with impressive vocabularies and the skill to translate their words into soulful lyrics were _right _up my alley.

That in mind, I spent the night of Valentine's Day preparing something special for someone special. It was important to me, that I tried and put in the effort I had neglected in the earlier months. Also, there was an obvious trace of guilt within me, for which I had to compensate with something stronger, and much, much less painful than spending the night alone.

I wore an auburn wrap dress, with my hair falling to my elbows in soft, but tight chocolate curls and with some strategic lingerie underneath. The last bit was Astoria's recommendation. I popped into the shops with her earlier in the day, where both of us made some last minute purchases in preparation for our last minute plans. Blaise was back in the country, after touring for a solid two months, having caught an early Port Key home. Cute, aren't they? It warmed my heart when I thought of my friends and their respective relationships. I was happy for them, and because of that, I felt it my duty to make things right.

With that, I dragged my arse to the tall, luminous building roughly ten minutes from where I lived, and proceeded to the highest floor, after which I knocked on the polished, wooden door.

"_Hermione?_" Draco voiced, holding the door open, eyes dancing down the length of my body. "_You…you look stunning…_"

I smiled, marching past him as he moved aside, and slowly, making my way to his dimly lit bedroom. I could feel him near, hovering a little, deciding whether it was safe to approach me. In truth, we had not been intimate since the night before I left to find Theo. Part of me felt the rising tension and the outward remorse rolling from his tall, toned physique in waves. But another part of me, could see that he wanted me. I had planned the entire night around the last part, because what I wanted him to know, was that the feeling was mutual.

Despite what I had done, despite kissing Theo, there was still something I harboured for Draco. It wasn't the same, but no romance is ever the same as others. Like snowflakes, there are differences and intricacies that can't be seen upon first glance.

Bearing that philosophy, I faced the door, with my legs and lower torso draped over the bed, and found an intense, vehement storm brewing in those smoky grey eyes.

I bit my bottom lip and felt that storm sweep over me, willing me to bring my hair to the left side and then trace the tips of my fingers down the front of my dress, before finding the sash that held it in place. Draco watched on, as though he couldn't help himself, and with that, I gave the sash a soft tug and felt the dress loosen all around me, eventually dividing near the middle, where wisps of my black, lacy lingerie were visible to his naked eye.

He then exhaled, in a way that told me he'd been holding his breath.

It was clockwork from there, as I shrugged the dress off and slowly tossed the fabric to him, with a hint of a smirk on my lips, as he eagerly caught it, smoothing the silk between his fingers as though I could feel it all over my body. I did feel it, surprisingly soon, someplace secret, where the storm intensified, following the rise and fall of the monsoon, as I moistened my lips.

A visible shiver ran the length of Draco's long body, and for a moment I thought to beckon him closer, but I didn't. I kept at it, rolling my head, feeling the feathery ends of my hair brush along my arms and back. I couldn't tell what felt better, doing this for him or doing this for me.

Nonetheless, we needed a night like this — a night for me to be in complete control.

I continued, arching my chest forward, curving my body towards him, teasing him. I liked seeing the way his eyes and his muscles and his overall demeanour changed, in response to my subtle movements. It was visible, lower down his body, that he desired me, and in those eyes, that he wished to curb that desire into slow, passionate love making. On the bed. Between the sheets. His body against mine. Now heated in too many places at once, I looked away from him and focused on the left strap of my negligee, as it sunk an appropriate distance down my shoulder, on cue with the feelings coursing through my bloodstream. In that moment, I brushed my fingers along the strap and dragged it lower, keeping a precise, painfully slow rhythm, as the attached fabric cascaded down my breast, hovering a millimetre of two above the skin of my aureola. I did the same to the other side, refusing to look at Draco until swaying my shoulders just a little, enough that the fabric pooled around my hips, revealing my breasts to him.

His eyes devoured my nipples, coaxing them into tight, tense points with the depth of his longing.

Seconds later, those eyes found mine, begging me.

But I hadn't the intent to beckon him forth.

Instead, I slid from the bed, still wearing my high heeled shoes, and stepped out of the negligee, as it fell to the floor. From there, I moved onward, diminishing the distance between our bodies, and hovered inches from him. His torso drifted forward, drawn to me like north to south. It was then, that a touch of surprise coloured both his cheeks, as I didn't move away from him, as though he expected me to repel his natural incline. I didn't. I stood my ground and felt my eyes flutter shut, as his quickened breath feathered over my cheeks, lips and then my neck. It was long, drawn out, and the just way I wanted it. Only then, after several minutes of this, did I find his hands and intertwine them with mine, before bringing them to me, dragging the tips of those long, slender fingers over my closed eyelids, cheekbones and then lower, to my lips.

There, I released his hands, vibrations running through my body, as the bud of his thumb coaxed my lips apart with a delicate _pop. _

Still, no words.

Draco focused on my lips, running his thumb over them, over the softness and then the moisture, as the muscle I used to snap various expletives at him both during and after our time at Hogwarts, came out to play. Again, his breath quickened and I felt the hardness that ran through him, in the exact moment those eyes steeled over mine.

"_Yes…_" I breathed, before he had the chance to ask. "_Slowly._"

The inward nod was evident in those orbs, and without further word, he brought his lips to mine and kissed me, as I had requested, slowly and softly, with his hand curved along my neck and then through my hair, carefully, with each second, drawing me closer.

I allowed him to kiss me, with no reciprocation, for about a minute, relishing the way his lips and the tip of his tongue lapped mine, moaning words of praise and then, a minute later, sliding my arms around his neck and kissing him back.

Another shiver ran through him, and then through me. I stood high on the toes of my shoes, still so much shorter than him, even with the added height. He compensated by carefully lifting me to him with one arm, as though I weighed nothing, providing me with the proper height and angle to devour him any and every which way I saw fit. I ran my hands through his hair and along my back of his neck, grazing his skin with my nails, lightly marking him as the kiss deepened.

"_Hermione,_" he breathed, in almost a whimper, an ache, one that ran through his body and back, where I could feel it in his touch and between my legs, as I wrapped them around him.

Draco trembled then, making an honest effort to stay true to his word.

There was no repulsion, just magnetism. Hard, unyielding energy between us, as our mouths and tongues moved together in slow, sweet surrender. I gave into him, unbuttoning his shirt as far as I could, before I couldn't reach any lower. Then and only then, did he take me to bed. I collided with him, into the firm, but soft mattress and felt the duvet curve around me, adjusting to my shape, as I watched on, practically salivating as he undid the remaining buttons and tossed his shirt to the side. His torso was lean and hard, riddled with muscles and through the corner of my eye, his Dark Mark hovered along his left forearm. I felt him watch me, as I studied it, waiting for me to react.

It wasn't the best tattoo for a man with whom a Muggle-born such as myself was about to have sex, but on him…Merlin, it was sexy.

I backtracked to his eyes and leaned upright a moment, curving my arms around his neck and bringing him down, with me. Then, we kissed again, with him on top, though leaving me enough room that I still had control, should I wish to wield it. I didn't. I plastered my chest to his, smothering my breasts against his defined pectoral muscles and moaning into his mouth, as he used one hand to carefully cup my right breast and knead the pillowy flesh in soft, circular motions. He repeated the same with the other hand, readjusting his knees on either side of me, using them to support his weight.

Through all of it, his lips never left mine.

He couldn't stop kissing me.

"_Let me…make love to you…_" he breathed, punctuating his request with another soft, sensual kiss that left me tingling in all the right places.

My inhibitions melted against the heat of his desire, and within that second, I nodded. "_Yes…please…_"

Before me, he leaned back, making quick work of his black trousers; so quick, in fact, that I didn't notice the slip of parchment that left one of the front pockets, until it fluttered to the bed. I thought not to look at it, to instead focus on the energy between his body and mine, but I was Hermione Granger for a reason. In an instant, curious waves wafted over me, beckoning me closer and closer, until I couldn't take it. I turned to the side and snatched the parchment, jerking the parchment out of reach, as Draco moved to snatch it from my grasp.

"_What is this?_" I asked, surprised by his reaction and at the same time, worried.

His cheeks turned beet red, and he opened his mouth to explain, but no words came out. I flicked one look at the parchment and then at him, before unfolding it to read another woman's name, at the end of a rather lascivious note.

Sensing the stillness that found me, he crawled backward and watched as I dragged my knees to my chest and read the note again and again and again. Finally, around the seventh time, I looked up at him, noting the colour on his cheeks, neck and along his shoulders. "_Who's Isobel?_"

In response, his eyelids crumpled shut, a freight train of emotions twisting and tugging at his facial muscles. "_Model,_" he answered, swallowing hard soon after.

I heard the voices in the back of my mind, but I refused to believe them. "_Did you sleep with her?_"

Again, he swallowed. "_Yes._"

"…_When?_" I blinked, dampening my lashes, feeling his answer tear a hole through my heart.

Draco looked at me then, begging with his eyes, apologizing to me, concentrated on the single tear that slid down my cheek, in response to his deafening silence. "_Isobel doesn't matter,_" he quickly said. "_I — I don't care about her. I care about you,_" he furthered, bringing our hands together, unimaginable hurt in his eyes as I pulled my hands free. "_Please…you have to…you have to believe me…_"

I hurriedly wiped the moisture from my eyes and moved away from the bed, holding a single sheet to my naked body as I gathered my belongings.

"_Hermione,_" he echoed after me, finding my side, searching through the coldness of my expression for any indication that I was willing to hear him out. "_Hermione, please —_"

"_Don't —_" I fired back, nudging him away from me. "_Don't touch me._"

"_I won't…I won't…_" Draco vowed, holding his hands up in surrender. "_Just…Just let me explain…_"

I closed my eyes hard, breathing heavily, as I slipped my clothes back on. "_Explain what? How you slept with another woman?_"

"_She —_"

"_When?_" I cut through, looking at him, fastening the wrap dress with a tight knot. "_Better yet, where?_" I then asked. "_On that bed?_"

Draco held a hand to his face, rubbing the frustration from his features. "_Hermione…don't ask questions you don't want to know the answers to._"

If there was a single response that I could have deemed the worst possible one, it was that. I exhaled, hard and heavy, slowly shaking my head and backing away from him. "_I can't believe you would let me do that for you, with another woman's lip stick prints all over your cock. Tell me, Draco. Did you like it? Did you enjoy it as much as she did?_" I furthered, shaking now. "_Did you tell her you were 'on a break' from your relationship? Hmm?_"

"_Listen to me,_" he stated boldly, catching my maddened eyes. "_Isobel means nothing. Less than nothing. I promise you._"

"_Why?_" I willed myself to ask, vision blurring under the weight of my tears.

His conviction wavered then, and he glanced down, only for a moment. "_I…I was feeling insecure about what happened between you and Theo…and…and I'm not absolving myself of the responsibility but…but I won't lie to you either,_" he explained, bottom lip quivering. "_Isobel was a mistake…a massive mistake…and the entire time I was with her…I couldn't reconcile over the fact that she wasn't you. Please, you…you have to believe me…_"

I blinked the moisture away, reminding myself to breathe, in and out, before formulating a response. "_Is that supposed to comfort me…? The fact that you let some random bimbo bounce on your cock, with me in mind…?_"

"_Don't,_" he inserted, something different in his tone, and with an indiscernible look in his eyes. "_You've been bouncing on my cock for months now, with my best friend in mind._"

The concentrated weight of his words thrashed over me, tearing another hole through my heart. I blinked, unable to speak or move. It was too much. It was all too much. "_I…I can't do this. I need to get out of here._"

With that, my legs carried me through the passage and into the corridor, where Draco hurried behind me. I wiped at my eyes and nose, angry and humiliated. Suddenly, the dress weighed heavy on me. The lingerie, too. I didn't belong in those clothes. I belonged in my flat, in my favourite tattered robe, with a book in my hands, where I could immerse myself in a universe starkly different from this one.

"_Hermione, wait —_" he broke through, skidding in front of me, blocking me from the exit. "_Please. I'm sorry for saying that. I just — I'm an idiot._"

"_No,_" I voiced, folding my arms. "_You're a cheater._"

It took a second, but his face muscles slowly tensed. "_Are we going to ignore the fact that you cheated? Because if that's the case, let me know right now and I'll cater the rest of this conversation to your needs — like everything else in this relationship._"

Following that, there was a sharp twinge in my lower abdomen, as though his words had been delivered to me in the shape of a knife, and with every second he stared, the knife twisted, sinking deeper and deeper. I did nothing but look at him, silenced under the pressure and the simultaneous truth that echoed between us.

"_What?_" he probed. "_Truth hurts, doesn't it?_"

I said nothing, which he took as his cue to press on.

"_Try being in a relationship with someone who thinks meaningless sex is worse than a kiss between two people so wrapped up in each other's bullshit, that they're blind to everyone else around them,_" Draco said to me, a shine to his eyes that I had failed to notice until then. "_I said I would wait, and I wasn't lying to you, Hermione. I would have waited for you as long as you needed me to. I would have followed you to the ends of the fucking earth — but I can't do any of that, if you refuse to let go of him. One weekend. One bloody weekend, and you still couldn't resist him. Isn't that right?_"

Fresh tears cascaded down my cheeks, seeping into the fabric of my dress and causing several shivers to run the length of my spine, as Draco neared me, using the softness of his hand to brush those tears away.

"_Just…Just tell me what it is…_" he murmured, so close to me now. "_What is it about him that you love so much, that I don't have…?_"

I shook against him, crying with a mixture of emotions as he embraced me, tapering my earlier emotions with his warm, intimate lock.

"_I'll change. I'll be whoever you want me to be. I…I'm not perfect and I don't know everything about you, but all I'm asking is for the chance to learn, to know you the way he does,_" Draco furthered. "_Just let me love you, Hermione. Please. Because I do, so, so much. I…I haven't always been the nicest person to you, but that doesn't mean your brilliance or your beauty or your compassion is at all lost on me. Even as a kid, I knew. I saw you then…and I see you now…and I can't believe we're the same people. I…I want to travel back in time and I want to tell that scrawny white-haired ferret that…one day…a bright, beautiful brunette is going to wander into a little dress shop on Oxford Street and take his breath away…_"

It happened to me then, that slow, steady incline, the one I felt so many years ago. I thought back to the moment in question, to the moment I stood in front of that three-way-mirror and found Draco Malfoy in the same vicinity. Not just that, but near me, with his fast, precise hand movements shaping the dress to me, learning my curves and the feel of my skin against his, never forgetting, never letting go…

"_I'll wait longer…_" he then whispered, brushing my lips with the bud of his thumb, again. "_I'll follow you to the ends of the earth…_"

I breathed, feeling my chest press against his, endless thoughts but no words to convey them.

Sensing this, he carried on, using that thumb to separate my lips, again, enamoured by the wet heat inside. "_How many times, I've dreamt of tasting you here…_" he mused. "_Do you believe it now? Do you believe that I'm uncontrollably and unabashedly in love you…?_"

My eyes fluttered shut. "_Yes._"

His muscles softened then, against me, warming me to him. "_I'm sorry for ever hurting you, Hermione…_"

"_I know…_" I whispered back, realizing, only as the words left my mouth.

Then, despite what had happened, despite the underlying tension and the argument that brought us to this point not moments ago, our lips danced and our hands followed. It was the warmest, most intimate kiss of my life, and I couldn't believe it was given to me by Draco Malfoy…

But even that, in its unrelenting, inescapable acquiescence, from which I had spent countless years hiding and running, convincing myself that none of it was real, found an end, as a letter came soaring towards us, in the clutches of a Barn Owl.

It was a letter from Daphne.

_Puddlemere, _the letter read. One word. One simple, powerful word. One word to waver the heat and the intimacy between us. One word for the world to come crashing down. _Puddlemere._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: *ahem* yeah. **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	53. Chapter 53

**A/N: Chapter Fifty-Three**

* * *

><p>Both myself and Draco left for Puddlemere within that minute. No words. Nothing to satiate the tension and the fear ricocheting between us. It was clear to me, by then, that something had happened to Nott. To my knowledge, Daphne paid him daily visits since his return to England, and because of that, because of the fact that the letter was sent from her, our worst fears were confirmed. I walked to the front door, with an inescapable wave of nostalgia, before scrunching my right hand into a fist and knocking.<p>

Draco stood with me, about six inches to my left, from where he brushed his hand against mine. On purpose or not, it was comforting to have him there and judging by the manner in which he then laced our hands together, I knew the feeling was mutual.

Seconds later, Ron answered the door, dressed in his classic maroon jumper with the letter _R _stitched in gold. From years of knowing him, I knew this particular jumper was something of a security blanket for him. Something that reminded him of Hogwarts, when we were younger and when life, even with Tom Riddle in existence, wasn't nearly as complicated. It was easier then, as survival was within reach — no matter our age or inexperience. Now older and more experienced, survival was as distant as the sun. Just as bright. Just as teasing.

"_Good, you're here…_" he breathed, softening the stress lines across his forehead, as though he'd been asleep no more than an hour ago. "_Come, he's inside._"

I followed, with Draco closely behind, our hands still locked, whilst Ron led us through the lounge, wherein myself and Nott had once passed out on the sofa after an amazing night of karaoke, sleeping blissfully before the subsequent death of his father. After that, we made our way through the kitchen, wherein Nott used to inadvertently stir me out of slumber with the aroma of his delicious concoctions, morning after morning. So many memories. So much time spent, with him, as friends and as lovers. It seemed too much, but I had to carry on. I had to keep going.

Moments later, we arrived at the door leading into his bedroom.

Daphne met us there. Her eyes were heavy and tired, with concern more than anything. Like Ron, she was dressed for comfort, sporting pyjamas with a cotton robe fastened around her waist. Her hair was tied in a messy bun and in her hands, she held several rolls of parchment.

"_Alert the others,_" she instructed to Ron, placing the parchment in his hands and sparing a moment for his exit, before turning to us. "_Draco…he wants to see you first._"

His hand tensed in mine. I felt fear and anxiety radiate from him, with so much force that it was a wonder he didn't black out. There was a hard twitch on his bottom lip, from where a quiver was born, one that ran the length of his body, leaving him shaken and afraid.

"_I — I don't think can do it,_" he choked out. "_S — Sorry. I just — I can't —_"

"_Draco,_" I softly embedded, waiting for the weight of his gaze to fall on me. "_You'll be fine._"

Within that second, his eyes were layered with moisture. I knew the feeling. I knew the defeat. I knew the desperation. It was what propelled me into kissing Nott, over one week prior, and judging by the look on Draco's face, it appeared he finally understood what that visit had meant for me. Perhaps, even, why I had done, what I had done. It wasn't about attraction or nostalgia. It was about seizing the moment, knowing, in the core of my heart, that time was fleeting.

Bearing this newfound disposition, Draco bent down and brushed his eyelashes along my forehead, as his lips found the corner of my mouth, feathering a kiss there, as if to apologize.

I, then, loosened my hold on his hand and watched as he pushed through the door, slowly, extending my arm with him, for as long as I could.

Daphne remained there, now an appropriate distance from where she started, as if to give us space. She turned to me, then, and motioned for me to follow. I did, ending up in the lounge, where I found Harry and Ginny seated with Ron, having arrived not a moment ago. There was silence in the room, deafening silence. It reminded me of the night we returned to the Burrow, following the Battle of Hogwarts. The atmosphere was as tense as it had been that night, momentarily deferred by another knock on the door. Ron leaped from his chair, as though he couldn't bare this feeling any longer, and opened the door to find Astoria and Blaise, closely followed by Sinead and Corvus.

I noticed Sinead was dressed in a red cocktail dress, and Corvus in smart, black dress robes, as though they'd been out, celebrating Valentine's Day, when the news arrived.

Only then, did I remember.

Astoria and Blaise were dressed for the occasion as well, but the details of their ensembles were lost on me, as footsteps sounded from the corridor. I, as well as the others, turned to find Draco approaching. In his eyes, there were countless emotions — ache and remorse and desolation — but most prominent was the thin, but definite layer of closure that veiled those smoky orbs. Seeing him, like that, crashed over me in waves, reaffirming to me the seriousness and the inevitability.

Harry rose next, with Ginny at his side, and together they left the lounge and escaped in the dimness of the corridor. I didn't quite know the depth of Harry's friendship with Nott, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense to me, that Nott had sought the Chosen One's aid two years ago. Like him, Harry knew what it was like to have his life hanging in the balance of a greater adversary. It was something I could never understand, and in that same second, I was glad that Nott had found someone with whom he could share his burden. Harry was an incredible friend, and Merlin, were those shoulders made to cry on.

Minutes later, Sinead approached me.

"_Hermione,_" she spoke softly, as to not disturb the stillness that enveloped each person in the room. "_I know this is a bad time but…I just…I want to thank you._"

I blinked, dazed, from both the silence and the underlying chaos. "_Sorry…I…I didn't catch that…_"

"_Thank you,_" Sinead repeated, with more conviction. "_You've been an amazing mentor and an amazing friend, and I…I suppose…with what's happening…I just…I feel it necessary to let you know how much I appreciate your guidance and your unwavering support._"

"_Sinead…_" I breathed, finding her in a light hug. "_You're a good person. One of the best. It's my pleasure to guide and support you, and honestly, I don't know where our little task force would be without you._"

The corners of her mouth turned into a kind smile, as she blinked the moisture from her eyes.

It was then that Harry and Ginny returned, with Harry's arms around his wife and her head pressed to his chest, crying. I longed to approach them, and Draco, and ask what had been said, what words had been exchanged, knowing those words were close to the last, but I kept my distance, unable to move. Around ten or twelve seconds later, Blaise found his turn, and after him was Astoria, followed quickly by Sinead and then Corvus. One by one, the loved ones of Theodore Nott rose from their seats and found their closure.

But there was one person missing, one person with whom Theo had shared a close, brotherly bond.

Shen.

"_Are you ready…?_" someone voiced, to me.

I turned to find Daphne, searching through my eyes, searching for some indication that I was able to make it through the next few moments. Nothing was said. Just one look and one motion from her, before I followed her through the lounge and into the corridor. It was dimmer than before, if that were possible. I noticed my footsteps echoed louder, too, and were punctuated by the hard, drum of my heart. Had this been a nightmare, I would have awoken the moment we reached that door. The dream would have ended, in an abrupt, mind numbing fashion, leaving me anxious and worried that it would soon become reality.

But it _was_ reality.

It had _always been_ reality.

Daphne left me then, and I listened as her footsteps faded into the background.

From there…something sharp and heated struck me deep in the chest, knocking the air from my lungs, as our eyes met from across the room.

I looked at him, at his plain clothes and his damp hair and his weak smile and the brush of redness under his nose, as though he'd bled through the night, as well as his eyes as he struggled to keep them open. He was in pain. There was an empty potion bottle at his nightstand, some sort of opioid, used to decrease the pain and simultaneously increase tolerance. Though, I could see that it had left him weak and distant, sedating him through…through death.

It was fast, the sweeping desperation.

"_Granger…_" he breathed, smiling.

I moved close, hurriedly wiping the wetness from my eyes, before falling to his bedside chair. Within that moment, he used one hand and drew me even closer, to the mattress, beside him. "_Theo…_" I whispered, lacing our fingers together, bringing his hand to my mouth, and pressing my lips to his skin. It was warm, which for some reason surprised me. In all the nightmares and all the distant fears, I had always imagined him cold to the touch, as he lay in his deathbed. But he wasn't cold. He was warm and alive and there, for me to see and to feel…

We didn't speak…not right away.

We sat in silence, riding the motions.

If I could have, I would have maintained the silence, as there was nothing I could have said to convey the lasting hold he had on me. Even like that, in his weakened state, the rising tide of his eyes brought colour to my cheeks.

"_Let's…Let's play a game…_" he suggested, using his hand to collect the tears that dangled from my chin.

I inhaled, breathing in the familiar scent of his bed sheets, reminded of the first night we spent together, in that same bed. "_Which one…?_"

"_Strip poker._"

"_Er —_"

"_Kidding,_" he grinned. "_Just…tell me about your day._"

"_My day?_" I repeated, taken aback by his nonchalance, but at the same time, not really. If there was one thing I knew about Theodore Nott, it was his penchant for bringing light to the darkest situations. "_I…I spent some time with Astoria and…I…_" For some reason, the words weren't coming out. Not the way I wanted them to. Realizing this, Theo gave my hand a light squeeze. "_Forget about my day,_" I quickly said, recalling the events that transpired less than an hour ago. "_Tell me…tell me how you're feeling…or…no…that's a stupid thing to say…_"

Theo neither agreed nor disagreed. He simply looked at me, smiling, as though he couldn't help it. "_You don't have to be so nervous, Granger. It's me, you're talking to._"

"_Exactly,_" I voiced, glancing down.

"_Hey…_" he whispered, bringing my hand to his lips. "_You'll be okay._"

I breathed in and then out, trying to convince myself of the same thing, before looking at him, noticing the resolution in his eyes. It was happening. I knew it would, sooner or later, but I didn't expect the disease to take him as quick as it did. His father had lived a full life. Part of me hoped Theo would, too. But that was not going to happen. He would never have children. He would never marry. He would never live through another Christmas or another birthday. His time was fleeting. His smile. His warmth. The sound of his voice. The feel of his skin. It was all going to disappear, and soon, like Tonks and Lupin and Fred and even Lavender, there would be a day when I would close my eyes and strive to remember the look of his. The still, reflective surface. The mist. The depth.

It was a cruel thing, death.

But even worse, was dying.

"_Do you…do you think you can do me a favour?_" he then asked, his voice mild and restful. I nodded, watching as he reached for something within the confines of his bedside table. It was a vial of that same murky liquid from the apothecary; the cure. "_Give this to Corvus._"

Without another word, I pocketed the vial, reminded of my earlier meeting with the boy. He was young, too young.

Nott studied the emotions that danced from my eyes to my lips, using that finely tuned, analytical side of his brain and coming to the conclusion that it was not sadness I felt. It was guilt. "_Granger…_" he said to me, catching my gaze. "_You're the closest anyone has ever come to perfection, and it brings me peace to know I'm not the only one who realizes that._"

I blinked, moisture clinging to my upper and lower lashes.

"_I meant what I said in the Hospital Wing,_" he furthered. "_I'm not alone. I've never been alone._"

It dawned on me, then, what he was talking about. His parting words, the last time we'd been separated. _I'm not alone, _he had said, propagating a whirlwind of mixed emotions and red flags within me, forcing me to look into the lives of my pureblood friends, wondering if they, too, suffered from the same disease.

Haunting words, for someone with the no knowledge of their meaning.

But, as I then discovered, it wasn't the disease, to which Nott had been referring. It was me. It was, as he had eloquently mentioned, his peace of mind in knowing there was at least one other person for me…that, no matter what happened, I would never be alone.

I blinked again, breathing in as an unexpected, slight but daunting shiver ran through his body. I felt it in my hand. I felt his struggle and his muscles, as they hardened and then released, over and over again. It was the worst feeling, but I knew there was nothing I could have done to cease his transition.

Though, there was one thing I wanted to do and thought not to do but decided, in the end, that it was best to throw caution to the wind and go for it. I lowered, smoothing one hand along the side of his face, aware that the tension in his muscles, and in mine, loosened in unison. No longer bound by the complexities of being forced apart, through decision and indecision, we were free. I embedded those feelings to him, with the brush of my lips against his, the only way I knew how.

But this time was different.

This time, was the last.

Nott trembled in response, first with surprise and then with desperation. His hands found my hair, running through it, as if to familiarize himself with the feel and the soft texture, one last time. My heart quickened, and then came the chills. It wasn't our best kiss or the deepest, or even the most intimate but it was — and still is — the most haunting. Seconds in, and I could already feel him slipping away. He held on, as best he could, kissing me back with slow but effective motions. I tried not to cry, I really did. But the moment I felt his tears ghost my cheeks, sharing his fears and his ache and the isolation he felt in being torn from this earth, still so young, was the moment I felt him fall apart.

"_You'll be okay,_" I echoed, drawing back, brushing the corners of his eyes, feeling his entire body quake, embracing him, again, and rocking him back and forth.

Only then, did I not cry. Only then, did he.

It hit me in slow, excruciating waves, pooling over my heart and reminding me how lucky I was, to have known him…to have known this one person, to have called him a friend and a lover and a companion.

I closed my eyes, and breathed. "…_I'll always love you._"

Only then, did stillness sweep over him. Only then, did the fear and the ache and the isolation wash away.

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><p><strong>AN: "Knockin' On Heaven's Door" (Original) by Bob Dylan **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	54. Chapter 54

**A/N: Chapter Fifty-Four**

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><p>It was close to three in the morning, when we relocated to Draco's flat. I walked with him in silence. Most of the others had left hours before, leaving us, as well as Blaise and Astoria to remain. Looking around, I quickly realized I was surrounded by Theo's closest friends (at some point or another). Knowing this, we sat in a circle, across the fireplace, and courtesy of Astoria, passed around a blunt, sharing our fondest memories, watching as tiny embers flickered from the logs and into the air, dancing in the dimness and then disappearing into the void; though not before changing the world in a short, but meaningful way.<p>

Blaise volunteered to start, taking a long drag, leaning back against the sofa, reminiscing about the time he first met Theo aboard the Hogwarts Express. It reminded me a lot of the time I met my school chums, Harry and Ron, in that it was innocent and definitive, all at the same time. Turns out, Blaise couldn't find a seat on the train, and neither could Theo. Both ended up sitting in one of the storage cupboards, where all the sweets and snacks were stored, which ended up being tradition for them. Y'know, until they shot up about six feet and could no longer contort into the cupboard like Tetris blocks.

"_That's what that was?_" Draco asked, astonished, as though one of the oldest mysteries in the universe had been solved before his very eyes. "_I always assumed you were keen on one another, or something._"

To this, we laughed, mostly because he was serious.

Next was Astoria.

She took the blunt from her boyfriend's fingertips and sucked back, releasing narrow streams of smoke from the space between her lips. I noticed she still had tears in her eyes, but she did a good job fighting through them. Her story was a lot like Blaise's, in that it involved the first time she met Theo. She was a couple years younger than us, which meant she started school when we were in our third year.

Like the best of 'em, she had managed to get lost during her first week of school and ended up crying in what she assumed to be the girls loo.

Turns out, it wasn't the girls loo.

It was the boys loo, and thirteen-year-old Theodore Nott happened to be there.

"_I'd never met someone like him before,_" she explained, thinking distantly, with a whisper of a smile on her lips. "_He was so nice. He conjured a tissue for me. He helped me to class. He didn't tell anyone he'd seen me cry — not even Daphne. He even made a point to wave hello to me in the corridors, which the other girls in my year were _**_insanely _**_jealous about, because, well, he was older and he had that whole sexy scholar thing going on._"

Preach.

Astoria smiled fondly, passing the blunt to me. "_Anyway…your go, Granger. Make it count._"

I took hold of it between my thumb and forefinger, stretching my legs and placing one top of the other. It was difficult to choose one memory, amid thousands, but I landed on a special one. It wasn't the time we hooked up in a broom closet. It wasn't karaoke night. It wasn't even the time he accidentally sprained my wrist during a pillow fight.

It was the time we decided to move in together.

"_We were at the pub, celebrating his graduation from Healer School, and I remember getting really, really drunk,_" I laughed, earning a similar reaction from the others. "_Like, to the point that I tried initiating a three-way between him and two girls at the pub, whom he'd offhandedly mentioned were attractive. It worked, for the most part, until I was sick in the loo. Nott being Nott, decided to put his three-way on hold, after which he took it upon himself to see me home. I can't really remember what led up to it, but I think I asked _(begged)_ him to stay and read me an excerpt from Hogwarts, A History, which he did. I then passed out and woke up in the morning _(afternoon)_ to find him making breakfast and reorganizing my cupboards,_" Again, laughs all around. "_From there, it was pretty much decided._"

Don't judge.

Being friends with sloppy, disorganized human beings like Ron and Harry — for years — made Nott's organizational skills a beautiful and rare occurrence. Plus, I liked the idea of living in a house with a yard and an actual garden, after living in a flat for the majority of my early twenties.

Finally, it was Draco's turn.

In the time that it took him to decide on a specific memory, Astoria had disappeared into the kitchen and returned to our circle with a round of firewhiskey. Moments later, Draco talked and we listened.

"_Early in sixth year, around Christmas, me and Pansy were having a row in the Common Room. I — erm — I'd been caught sneaking around Slughorn's Christmas Party, and she thought I was there to hit on Daphne or something,_" he explained, receiving a slow nod from Blaise, as though he recalled the night in question. I know I did. It wasn't the party Draco had been interested in. It was his growing anxiety over the task he'd been given, to assassinate Albus Dumbledore. Surprised by his choice in story, I listened. Also, because I'd never heard him talk about Pansy….like, ever. "_She didn't believe me and went on some long, drawn out tirade about cheating —_" Right then, we exchanged a quick look, one that didn't go unnoticed. "_...and, e__r, anyway. Theo returned from the party with a dopey looking grin on his face, humming some 'light never goes out' tune under his breath. I don't think he properly saw us, or if he did, he didn't care enough to comment or diffuse the tension, as he usually tried to do…_"

Through the corner of my eye, I could sense that Blaise's attention wandered to me. It was clear we were on the same page. Nott had been humming "There is a Light That Never Goes Out" by _The Smiths_.

"_Anyway…it's not so much a memory about us, as it is a memory about him, **happy**. It was the first time I had seen him genuinely happy since we were kids. I don't know what happened to him that night but…it must have been something._"

Heh heh.

From there, our circle fell into silence, into more memories, into the short, but meaningful experience that made up life. I turned to the fireplace, watching all the tiny embers flicker and float and fade, cuddling into Draco's arms as he curved them around me, whilst the other couple did the same.

"_To Theodore Nott,_" Blaise calmly, yet movingly announced, raising his glass, the shine in his eyes reflecting the shine in ours. "_See you in the next life, brother._"

**_One Month Later _**

In case anyone is wondering, the cure was championed by Daphne, Harry, and Corvus, as well as myself, and was legalized within two weeks of the funeral. It was a defining moment in wizarding history — one that earned our dear friend a Chocolate Frog Card with his face and name on it, and an_ Order of Merlin, First Class_. I was proud of him, but more than that, I was relieved his hard work hadn't been swept under the rug. What he had done helped thousands of people around the world, and it was due time people recognized him for his dedicated effort, as both a scholar and a practitioner of magic.

But in that time, in the month that I'd been given following the death of a close friend, I came to realize something.

I'd done my part.

I didn't belong in the Auror Office anymore.

There was one thing I'd always wanted to do, one thing I'd never had the time nor the energy to do, one thing Nalini had brought to my attention during one of our sessions.

I returned from that session about two hours later, to find that Draco had catered an incredible dinner out on the rooftop of his building. It was set up like a picnic, with lights dangling above us and a ton of plush throw cushions to lay down on and enjoy the delicious food and drinks. I could tell he had put a lot of effort into it, and I appreciated that, seeing as he was set to leave for Manhattan early in the morning. There were some things in the New York branch that needed his immediate attention, and he couldn't hold it off any longer. I understood and to be honest, I felt we both needed some time alone to reflect and to find truth in what happened on our own terms.

Bearing that in mind, I joined him on the rooftop and indulged in the various food items laid out for me to feast on. Draco watched me with amusement, taking small bites and small sips. I wasn't as delicate, but I had the sneaking suspicion that he liked that about me. It was something I'd picked up from Ron, during our brief stint as a couple. Don't laugh at me. I'm not proud of the person I become when I'm hungry.

"_You're beautiful when you have pesto sauce dripping down your chin,_" he smiled, highly entertained as a beet red blush crept up around my cheeks and neck.

I hurriedly snatched one of the napkins and used it to dab my chin, scowling at him when I noticed there was no such sauce on my person. "_You're gonna get it._"

"_How many times?_" he furthered, causing that blush to deepen.

For obvious reasons, we'd refrained from having sex for the past month, which worked for both of us, seeing as we were in neither the mood nor the right frame of mind. I had been busy trying to legalize the cure and he had been busy sorting out the Nott Family Manor. It came to my attention, that Nott had left Draco the manor in his will, as a massive thanks for all the summers he spent over in Malfoy Manor, when they were schoolchildren. Also, the boys were distantly related, as both had ties into House Black, which meant the Nott Family Manor would at least be kept in the family.

I'm sure you're wondering what he left me in his will, and, well…

Draco smoothly kissed me, leaving a trail from my left cheek, down the inner curve of my neck and along my clavicle. I lost all train of thought, caught up in his lips and his warmth. "_You…you're in…you're in…trouble…_" I breathed.

His mouth turned into a sly smile, right up against the column of my throat, where he slowly brought the kiss, both hands cupping my cheeks. "_You know what you need to do?_"

My eyes fluttered shut. "_Help…help you take your shirt off…?_" I guessed.

Again, he smiled, coming up, brushing our lips together and then separating long enough to dispel the touch of reluctance I felt in telling him what I had discussed with Nalini. "_You, Hermione Granger, need to go on that world tour._"

I blinked, looking at him, smiling back.

You see, back when Nott left London, he had plans to be at peace with his fate and see the world, but those plans were interrupted when he realized he had the chance to develop a cure. Still, the Port Keys and trains and even the hotels were arranged. It was simply a matter of choosing a departure time. Turns out, various people from various places owed him favours. I assumed they were people whose lives he had saved in one way or another, as a Healer, and even though he was no longer able to travel as he had once hoped, he didn't want the chance to go to waste.

To me, he had left his golden ticket around the world.

"_What do you say?_" Draco asked, combing my hair back. "_Leave tomorrow. Come back for the wedding. See what happens._"

I arched an eyebrow. "_Who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?_"

He glanced down, grinning. It was nice, seeing him like that, without a chip on his shoulder and without an ounce of self-doubt. He'd always been confident, but I wasn't sure he'd ever been secure — until that very moment.

"_There was once a time when you let me go to achieve my dreams,_" Draco explained, turning his head up, to the skies, and then to me. "_Now it's my turn to do the same._"

"_But…_"

"_I'll wait for you,_" he promised, brushing his fingers under my chin, bringing me close enough to kiss and then holding it. "_Right here. In this spot._"

I couldn't help but smile. "_You'll freeze up here, all on your own._"

"_Oh, I don't know. My right hand can think of a few things to keep me warm…_"

With that, I burst out laughing. "_Now, that, is what I call romance._"

Draco chuckled. "_Hey, a second ago, you wanted to tear this shirt clean off me. I must be doing something right._"

"_Maybe I just don't like shirts on you,_" I furthered, flattening my hands on his chest and shoving him back, against the cushions. "_What do you have to say about that?_"

It took a moment for him to respond, and when he finally did, I released a soft yelp, fighting the smile that tugged on my lips. He clasped our hands together and brought me down with him, kissing me some more, with both his arms around me, rolling our bodies along the cushioned surface until he was on top, holding his weight above me."_Maybe I don't like shirts on you either._"

I narrowed my eyes. "_Oh, now you're definitely gonna get it._"

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><p><strong>AN: The End. **

**Cheers**

**xo. **

**(P.S. Kidding lol. Story's not over yet. Still a few more to go!) **


	55. Chapter 55

**A/N: Chapter Fifty-Five! One more after this. I know I've made some, let's say, interesting choices as far as the characters are concerned (like a disease, for one lol) so thank you for sticking around. I hope no one feels unappreciated or neglected by me. I try very, very hard to post these chapters as fast as I can, because I know how frustrating it can be to invest time into a story the author has neglected to update. That said, I don't want this note to stretch on too long, so, again, thank you so much and I hope you enjoy this chapter, as well as the next.**

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><p><strong><em>Some Time Later <em>**

Through various modes of transportation and just under three months of travel, I'd hopped from London to Southern California, to Chicago, to New Orleans, to Rio, to Cape Town, to Cairo, to Dubai, to Goa, to Tokyo, to Seoul, to Phuket, and finally, to Hong Kong. There were more places and more continents left to cover, but I decided Hong Kong was a good place to rest for an extra week. It was busy and bustling, and the architecture was perhaps the most beautiful I had ever seen for any magical government building. Though, as much as I wished to stay there for the duration of the month — I couldn't. Ron and Daphne's wedding was fast approaching, and I happened to be a bridesmaid.

That in mind, I slipped out of my room at the _Island Shangri-La _and entered the lobby. It was the nicest, most ornately decorated hotel I'd ever visited, and I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that I had a room there. Between the high ceilings, the mammoth chandeliers, the gilded furniture and the air of luxury that seemed to bleed from the walls — there wasn't much room for doubt. I postponed my Port Key to Geneva for a later time and spent an extra seven days in Hong Kong, mesmerized by the city, as well as the culture and the overall vibe. It was bustling, without being a headache, and I quite liked the fact that not many people, even within the magical community, seemed to recognize me.

Most days, I woke up around noon, drew myself a bath, soaked for about twenty minutes, before ordering room service and then proceeding outside to take in the sites and attractions. Trust me, there were many. I especially liked the food — because that was the best part about this whole world tour thing. Forget _Eat, Pray, Love. _I wanted to _Eat, Eat, Eat _— and I did, as well as drink, but only small amounts. I couldn't risk doing anything crazy in a foreign country, where I knew no one apart from the bubbly socialite Mei. She was staying in the room down the corridor from mine, and happened to be my unofficial tour guide. I went out with her and her friends my first few nights in Hong Kong, and let me tell you — those ladies partied _hard_. Like, to the point that I had to sit back and ask myself if I had turned into a boring adult, so soon in life. I wasn't terribly young, but I certainly wasn't old.

Right?

Maybe not.

Needless to say, that first night was an experience and a half, and although I promised Mei I'd go out with her and her friends again before heading back to London, I found myself leaning more towards the idea of retreating to the city streets for a nice stroll — without loud music and bright, flashing lights.

So, on that last evening, I did exactly that.

I made my way to the Temple Street Night Market and had a gander through various souvenirs, as well as some odds and ends that baby James (and soon-to-be baby Albus) would enjoy. Plus — _the food_. Merlin, that food was delicious. I scarfed down two servings of clay pot rice, filled to the brim and ready for more, when suddenly I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder.

Most times, it was another English-speaking tourist seeking directions, and although I didn't speak a word of Cantonese, I did manage to get by. Mei helped a lot, having jotted down some quick, necessary phrases in phonetics, in case of an emergency. But the moment I turned, I found neither Mei nor a tourist. Though, I did find a familiar face nonetheless.

"_Shen!_" I half-gasped, half-choked, startling some passersby, as I launched at him with open arms. "_What are you doing here?_"

The young man, dressed in his usual band t-shirt and fitted jeans combo, chuckled at me in response. "_I'm the Chinese one. What are _**_you _**_doing here?_"

I chuckled with him, nodding, slightly dazed. From there, we fell into step with one another and made our way through the night market, and into one of the trendy bars in Lan Kwai Fong. It appeared he was there for an interview at the wizarding hospital in Hong Kong, which surprised me given the vehement stance he had taken not too long ago, about staying in London and working under Daphne's expertise. Though, I supposed he was simply exploring his options; something I wished I had done at his age. Nonetheless, it was refreshing to see him again. The last time I'd seen him was on Ron's birthday over one year ago — at Three Broomsticks.

Flashbacks of that night skidded through my memory.

"_So what brings you to Hong Kong?_" he furthered, having ordered us some drinks. "_Auror business?_"

I smiled, wheeling a look around the bar. It was quite large and dimmed, with sleek decor and touches of deep blue and indigo here and there. I imagined it looked something like the Ravenclaw Common Room in Hogwarts. "_For once, no. Just some traveling before Ron and Daphne's wedding._"

Shen nodded slowly. "_Right. I've been meaning to tell Daph I won't be able to make it._"

His admission broke my wandering look. I turned to him, perplexed. "_Oh, no…Did something come up at school?_"

"_Nah, jut some p__ersonal matters,_" he whatever'd, shrugging it off with a quick smile. "_ — but enough about that._"

I opened my mouth to say something, perhaps pry a little until I landed on something substantial, but the moment I parted my lips was the moment our server returned with a martini for me and a vodka neat for Shen. For a moment, I simply watched, having to remind myself that he was of legal drinking age in both Hong Kong and England. Still, when I looked at him, I wanted to see the same boy I had met in Nott's potions class, eager to learn and kind to his classmates. Clearly, he had grown up within the past couple years, enough that his entire demeanour had changed. That in mind, I couldn't help but notice a hint of a tattoo below the sleeve of his thin, black coat.

Done with his drink, he wiped his lips and noticed me staring. "_Want to see it?_"

I paused. "_Erm — if — if you want —_"

Without further questioning, Shen slipped out of his coat and thus, revealed his tattoo. It wasn't a single tattoo. It was an entire sleeve, containing many, intricately designed illustrations and symbols. "_I had it done a couple months ago,_" he explained. "_Bit random, but I quite like it._"

"_Did it hurt?_" I asked, bouncing my eyes up, at him.

Again, he shrugged. "_No more than usual._"

My eyes widened a little. "_You have more?_"

"_Three more,_" he answered, casual, as though answering questions about his tattoos had become routine. "_Between the shoulder blades, across the lower abdomen and over the heart._"

I blinked. "_Well, then._"

Shen chuckled in response to my astonishment. "_Tattoos are the best therapy. Trust me._"

"_Really?_"

"_Definitely,_" he nodded. "_You should get one._"

I laughed, instinctively shaking my head, acutely aware of the implication behind his suggestion. It didn't take a genius to surmise the fact that something tragic and life changing had happened within our group of friends — and although I had been attending regular sessions of actual therapy before leaving, something about Shen's suggestion resonated with me. I thought, perhaps some ink wouldn't be such a terrible idea. I wasn't against tattoos or any other form of body art/self-expression. Part of me had always wanted to get one, but I could never think of something that I wanted etched into my skin for all eternity.

That was before.

Things had changed.

I was older. I had been through a ton. I had every reason in the world to…

"_You're thinking about it,_" Shen deduced, on his second drink, thumb on his chin as he studied me. "_How about tonight? One of my mates works in a tattoo shop not too far from here. I'm sure he can squeeze you in._"

"_Er…_"

This wasn't actually happening. I wasn't actually going to get a tattoo, at the suggestion of Cho Chang's nephew.

Shen flashed me a knowing look, quite perceptive for someone nine years younger than me. "_No pressure. Just know the offer's on the table,_" he winked. "_If you're feeling adventurous enough, let me know._"

I responded to this with a firm arch in my brow. "_We're still talking about tattoos…right…?_"

To this, he laughed, but he sounded more nervous than amused. His cheeks turned a violent shade of red, and he then downed the rest of his drink. "_Third round?_"

"_Sure,_" I chuckled.

**_Four Hours Later _**

It was around midnight when we finally left the bar. I cut myself off around the second or third hour and used the fourth to sober up, before seeing Shen home. Yes, he was technically the man in the situation, but he was also a lot younger than me and had _a lot _to drink, which shifted the responsibility for making sure he got home in one piece onto me. I didn't mind. I'd rather have done it myself than shove him into a cab and send him Merlin knows where. Plus, he was Nott's favourite student. I felt compelled to look after him.

That in mind, I escorted him to his hotel room, having to fish the key card from his pocket, before sliding it in the electronic lock and stumbling with him through the doorway.

"_Since…since I know I've…made an arse…of myself…_" he managed to say, hiccoughing here and there, as I slung an arm under his shoulders and dragged him to the bed, before unlacing his boots. "_Do you…do you think you could…tell me something…?_"

I yanked his boots off, one after the other, and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear, before rising from the floor and looking at him. "_Maybe in the morning. For now, you should rest._"

His head drooped down, as he sat on the foot of the bed. "_I'm an arse._"

"_You're not an arse,_" I countered, tilting my head to the side, looking at him knowingly. "_You've had too much to drink. There's nothing wrong with that. We've all been there. I know I have._"

"_It's not that,_" he furthered, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes.

Something sank deep into my chest. "_Shen…_" I murmured, concerned, moving to the bed and having a seat beside him. "_What's wrong?_"

He turned his face in the opposite direction, hiding from me. "_Nothing just…just too much to drink. Like you said._"

"_You can talk to me,_" I assured him. "_I know we…aren't exactly best friends or anything but if there's one thing I can guarantee, it's that I'm a good listener._"

Despite this, he held his position and cursed at himself for this rare, unexpected moment of humanity. To my knowledge, he was always on his a-game and rarely, if ever, showed weakness or vulnerability. But I didn't let those preconceptions cloud my judgment. He was still a young man, with stresses and concerns and an entire future weighing on his shoulders. I remembered that feeling well. It was the only part about being in my early 20's that seemed to scar.

Finally, after three or four minutes, the silence was broken.

"_I…I didn't say goodbye…_" he voiced, head still turned. "_…nor did I attend the funeral…_"

Somewhere deep down, I knew this to have been the source to his affliction. I'd been meaning to ask, but decided not to, as I didn't want to spoil his mood or put a damper on the night. Though…now that I could see he was deeply affected by what he had (better yet, had not) done, I wished I'd mentioned it earlier.

"_It's never too late,_" I said to him, softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "_Trust me on that._"

Shen looked to the floor. "_I know you're right…but…I can't do it. I can't do it alone…_"

"_If you need someone there, I'd be more than willing to go with you._"

"_Really?_" he asked, facing me.

I noticed then, the shine in his eyes. "_Absolutely._"

From there, he took a deep breath, weighing his options.

It was telling, the amount of people affected by what happened and in so many different ways. For the most part, I had dealt with the loss better than I expected. Part of me knew this was his plan, that he not only left in order to let me live my life, but also to get me used to the feeling of living without him. It was obviously difficult, and I still thought about him everyday — when the wind whistled around me; when certain songs came on the radio; when men on the street walked past me in leather jackets; or when I caught the scent of fresh, mountain air. I missed him, terribly, and although I knew I had to move on in order to live a full, happy life, I couldn't do it by running away.

The reason — the main reason — I left wasn't because I needed an escape. It had more to do with the fact that I needed time and a change in setting, in order to find my thoughts and put them to bed.

Because that's what this entire memoir is about.

I needed closure. Not only from him, but from everything. I spent too many years chasing after the wrong dreams at the wrong times. I owed it to myself to make things right for my future, and in order to do that, I had to sort out my past.

So…that first night away from home…in Southern California…I sat on the rooftop of a beach house in Malibu and I penned the first chapter. Starting with the anecdote about Jillian, my cousin, and ending with my first kiss, given to me by none other than Viktor Krum. Three months later, about fifty chapters in, and over one hundred thousand words to describe what led me to this moment, and I felt content. I knew, right then, that writing things down instead of pretending they didn't matter, was the right decision.

Immersed in these thoughts, I didn't notice when Shen leaned back on his bed and fell asleep. Though, the moment I did, I smiled and draped one of the bed sheets over him, before dimming the lights and leaving, thinking distantly about the name of the tattoo shop he had mentioned…

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><p><strong>AN: Thoughts? **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	56. Chapter 56

**A/N: Chapter Fifty-Six! Last one.**

_**[UPDATE]: Check out my YouTube channel for the official RS:P trailer!**_

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><p>The morning after, I met with Shen for breakfast and purchased some pain reliever potion to help with his hangover. I also managed to convince him to return to London with me later in the day, in order to visit Nott's final resting place and also to attend Ron and Daphne's wedding. It appeared he'd been avoiding the situation for the past four months, as well as his friends Corvus and Sinead. I understood his disposition, but I also understood how important it was for him to come home and also, to face his fears.<p>

That said, we enjoyed our breakfast and sat in silence — for the most part. I felt him shoot quick looks at me every now and then, as though he wanted to say something but couldn't.

"_Okay,_" I voiced, dabbing my lips with the napkin, fixing my attention on him. "_What's going on in that head of yours?_"

Shen paused, forcing down his mouth full of food. "_Er — what do you mean?_"

"_Don't play me for a fool, Chang. Spit it out._"

His face blanched. "_I…I…_"

"_Go on,_" I furthered, a little more delicate this time around.

"_I didn't…I didn't do anything…last night…_" he started, darting his eyes to the table and then to me, fast as light. "_…did I?_"

It took me a moment to understand what he was trying to ask, and when I did, I couldn't help it. I clapped a hand over my mouth and chortled with laughter.

Shen gaped at me.

"_Sorry, sorry…_" I teased, earning several looks from passersby. "_Nothing happened. I can assure you._"

A wave of relief passed through him, as though that were all he had been thinking about since I met with him in the lobby of his hotel. "_Good,_" he vocalized, combing through his fringe with one hand, whilst downing a full glass of water with the other. "_It was just a dream then._"

Er.

Well, then.

**_Two Days Later _**

Does anyone remember that scene from _Titanic_, when Rose descends the grand staircase and finds Jack Dawson waiting for her at the bottom? She's dressed in this exquisite hand-beaded evening gown, with her lips painted red and her hair pinned up, falling down her neck in spirals. It's this defining moment in the film. Jack turns and with the look in his eyes, as he watches her, it's clear. It's though, in the space of that one moment, there was nothing he could see or feel apart from Rose and the way his heart had been palpitating since they first met.

I want you to keep that scene in mind.

For now, let's move on to what happened a couple days after I returned to London — on the night of the wedding.

There was music in the background, strumming a beautiful, acoustic tune, as Daphne made her way down the aisle, to the altar, where she and Ron exchanged their vows and sealed the ceremony with a slow, sensual kiss. It was perhaps the most beautiful, honest exchange I had seen since Harry and Ginny's wedding, and in that moment, one thing was clear to me. I wanted that. I wanted that so, so much that I couldn't breathe without catching that familiar scent of sandalwood, dark chocolate and black currant.

Later, came the reception.

I overlooked the swaying couples, having done my duty as a bridesmaid, and took careful, moderate sips of champagne, with no intention of repeating the incident at Harry and Ginny's wedding.

Charlie was an absolute gentleman, and maintained an appropriate amount of distance between us when we walked down the aisle and as we danced. It wasn't near as awkward as I'd imagined. In part, because we were a little older and a little bit more mature, and in part because he was in a relationship. Her name was Rosa and he met her whilst doing work in Guatemala. She wasn't at the wedding, but from what he told me about her, she seemed like a charming, kindhearted person.

Perfect for him.

"_Surreal, isn't it?_" someone voiced, close by.

Through the corner of my eye, his presence was known to me. I sensed him, even before those first words left his lips. Tall, dressed to the nines and overlooking the dance floor with the same sentiment, was Ron.

I turned, slowly.

There were countless ways I could have interpreted his words — but the meaning was as clear to me as the cloudless skies above us. I responded with nothing but a nod, drinking from my champagne flute as he drank from his. The wedding itself was an elegant, romantic affair, with more guests than I had ever seen. I was sure most of them were friends and relatives from Daphne's side, as the only people Ron knew were his immediate family and his former classmates. All of whom amounted to about twenty-five people. That in mind, I laughed a little.

He laughed, too. "_If you told me ten years ago that this would happen…that I would one day marry Daphne Greengrass…I don't know…_"

I returned his smiles, clinking glasses with him. "_You are one lucky boy, Ronald Weasley._"

"_Bloody right,_" he agreed, solid in his wording, but distant all the same. " — _and so is Malfoy._"

It happened quickly then, that wave of familiarity. I took another drink from my champagne, aware of the slow, but steady undercurrents.

Ron looked on, with Norah Jones' smooth, forgiving vocals there to accent the peace behind those bright blue eyes. No further words were exchanged, but after years of knowing him, words weren't necessary. I knew, without so much as a look, that we were thinking the same thing.

In another life.

Perhaps.

**_One Hour Later _**

It wasn't long after the older guests cleared out, that the real party started.

I danced centre stage with the girls — Astoria, Ginny and Daphne — to our favourite songs. Blaise and his team were charge of the music, playing various tracks ranging from classic rock to R&B. The exact moment Queen came on, was the moment I lost my shit. The girls cheered me on, clapping and dancing around me as I belted out "We Are The Champions" at the top of my lungs.

Around that time, was the time Harry and Ron joined in, and together we stood with our arms around one another, swaying and singing with smiles and laughter all around. It was an incredible moment, and for a fleeting second, the three of us were transported back to our younger years, sneaking about the corridors after hours and bending the rules at whim. Merlin, what I would have done for the chance to travel back in time and relive those days.

The years flew on by before we had the chance to stop them.

It was no longer about Harry or Ron or myself. It was about Ron's new marriage, and Harry's son James, as well as his to-be son Albus, who was about one month away from drawing his first breath. Everyone in our group of friends had taken an enormous leap forward, embracing their respective futures with open arms and full hearts.

I longed to do the same.

I longed to see what my future had in store.

That in mind, I wheeled one look around the venue, skimming over many familiar faces before landing on one that I'd been waiting to see all night — for the past three months, really. It hit me all at once. The rise and the fall, and the slow but steady force that drew me towards him. Our eyes met in the same way they did in that dress shop five years ago, and like that, I exhaled, taking him in from head to toe, as he neared me.

Did I mention I'd been away three months? I did? Okay, well, I'll say it again. Three months without him. Three months without that touch, that voice, and that passion. It was all I could do to remain where I was, breathing in and out, looking at him as he looked back at me.

I should explain that I was single for those three months. Meaning, I could have done whatever I wanted with whomever I desired — and although I had been tempted here and there, I knew, from the beginning, that I only desired one thing from one person.

Just like that, there was a shift in the atmosphere.

It went from light and harmonic, to heated and intense, in rhythm with the vibrations that traveled through me. The others had to have noticed, but none of them dared approach me. I was left in the middle of the dance floor, waiting for him with his emerald silks draped over me and with my hair gathered softly to the side. There was a slight breeze, one that tickled my skin and left me on the cusp of another long, drawn out breath, until finally…

"_Draco —_" I whispered, sucking in his rich, exquisite scent, in harmony with the song in the background.

It was an R&B track that I recognized but couldn't place. I couldn't focus. I could only sink deeper into him and exhale, as though for the first time.

With his arms around my waist and mine along his neck and shoulders, we danced. It was more of a sway than anything else, in no apparent position other than one that left no distance between us. I could hear a blend of whispers from the onlookers, reminiscent of the dance we shared at Harry and Ginny's wedding, but this time was different, in that there was no denial.

Remember the scene I described earlier?

Being there with him was similar to that…but better.

"_Nice tattoo,_" he smiled, a touch of surprise in his eyes.

For a moment, I blanched. "_Yeah?_"

He nodded, bringing my left wrist to his lips and brushing the marked skin. It was a small tattoo, the size of a silver sickle, white, no outline, in the shape of a snowflake. I had it done in Hong Kong, the night I went out with Shen (sober, mind you) and although it was damn near the most painful thing I'd ever willingly endured, it was also worth every second.

"_It's beautiful,_" Draco whispered. "_It really is._"

Hearing that from him made me smile.

From there, our dance slowed, and again, we were caught in uncharted territory, where any number of things could have happened. It was all down to one detail, to the only thing I had always wanted to tell him but never could.

I leaned into him the moment he leaned into me, and without the slightest hesitation, the words left my lips, skimming his ear along the way.

For one, maybe two seconds, his muscles tensed all around me, as though he couldn't believe what I had told him. "_You do?_" he asked, an innocence about him that did not go unnoticed.

"_So much,_" I murmured, shivering against him, swaying with him, fading into him, just about ready to leave the reception, when suddenly it happened.

He spun me — soft but hard — turning me so my back was pressed to his front, catching me as I gasped. It was a precarious position — but I didn't mind. My eyes fluttered shut and I moved with him, feeling his hands on my hips and my waist, where the heat from his fingertips traveled through the silk of my dress, causing the colour along my cheeks and neck to deepen.

"_Ready?_" he asked, igniting that fire…that slow, titillating burn.

In his arms, I faded. "_Yes._"

**The End**

**A/N: Pshh. Told you not to worry about the dramione tag haha. **

**Anyway, thank you so much for reading this story all the way through. I know it hasn't been easy and that I've dragged certain characters through the mud (again and again) but it's over now, and I hope you enjoyed reading this, as much as I enjoyed writing it. **

**Thanks, again.**

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><p><strong>Soundtrack: <strong>

**"There Is a Light That Never Goes Out" The Smiths **

**"You Take My Breath Away" Queen**

**"Lay It Down" The Rubens **

**"Edge of Seventeen" Stevie Nicks **

**"Recover" CHVRCHES **

**"Shake It Out" Florence + the Machine (Benny Benassi Remix Edit) **

**"Feenin" Lyrica Anderson (Acoustic Version) **

**"Phenomena" Yeah Yeah Yeahs **

**"Lullaby" The Cure**

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><p><strong>Cheers<strong>

**xo.**

**(bonus points to anyone who can match songs to characters/couples) **


	57. Bonus Chapter: Broom Closet

**A/N: No one asked for it, but here's a bonus chapter haha. As you can tell by the title of the chapter, it's a detailed account of what happened in the broom closet. I was originally going to post it with the story, as part of 'Chapter 3' but I decided against it, as I wanted an even playing field for Draco...and I felt that the original draft painted Nott as too strong of a contender, too soon in the story. So, anyway, here it is. I hope you enjoy it. I have some more outtakes that have been collecting dust in my documents folder. If anyone is interested, I'll post those, too.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>"Melodies &amp; Desires" by Lykke Li <strong>

_**Follow these instructions**_  
><em><strong>Do exactly as I do<strong>_  
><em><strong>Lean your shoulders forward<strong>_  
><em><strong>Let your hands slide over to my side<strong>_  
><em><strong>Move your body closer<strong>_  
><em><strong>Let your heart meet mine<strong>_

_**Love is the harmony**_  
><em><strong>Desire is the key<strong>_  
><em><strong>I was the melody<strong>_  
><em><strong>Now sing it with me<strong>_

_**Come a little closer**_  
><em><strong>Take a look at me<strong>_  
><em><strong>This light is so obvious<strong>_

_**I want you to see**_

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><p>I exhaled, the moment my dress fell to the floor.<p>

In the distance, I heard music and laughter; the ambiance of adolescence. It was cold in that tight, dark space, in the broom closet, but the second I laid eyes on him, was the second those sounds and voices disappeared. I stood before him, in the quiet, as he leaned close to me and wove his fingers through my hair.

"It's okay," he murmured to me, brushing our lips together. "You're okay."

It wasn't until he said that, that I realized I was shaking. I was nervous, as I should have been. I barely knew him, but I wanted to. If he desired to, he could have taken me in a storm of lips and muscle, but he didn't. I could tell, by the way he kissed me, that he wanted to know me, too. In knowing that, I tentatively wrapped my arms around his neck, and arched, coaxing a low and uninhibited moan from him.

God, that sound…

I breathed in through my nostrils, absorbing more of him, as he lowered his hands, from my hair to the small of my back.

It was a subtle, slow burn, from his body to mine. I tensed under his touch, making all sorts of sounds and feelings all sorts of ways, in my head, in my heart and in the area between my thighs. It tingled, as he kissed me deeper. I wanted him there. I wanted his fingertips, his lips and his skin. Slowly, he felt along the mid-section of my back, wherein his hand made contact with the strip of lace there. I knew what was coming and I held my breath, as he unhooked my bra, releasing the pressure that bound me so tight.

"You okay?" he knew to ask, whispering the words to me.

I looked up at him, nodding once; slow but certain. It was difficult to see in the dimness, but I recognized his look as one of ranging emotions. I sensed he was holding back.

"You…You can touch them…" I said to him, anxiously.

In response to that, a small smile found his lips, before he cupped my cheek and kissed me lightly. "You're kind of adorable. You know that?"

"Er…"

"And sexy…" he added, flicking one look between us, drowning me in the oceans he had for eyes. "So unbelievably sexy."

I released the breath I had been holding, feeling the faint tingle between my legs turn into a hot, heavy throb, as he kissed me again and pressed me flat against the wall. Ooh, that felt good. I was delirious by the time he lowered his lips down the length of my neck, kissing me there, marking me, grazing his tongue along my pulse.

"Nnngh…" I bit down on my bottom lip, tossing my head to the wall, as he

grasped my sides and dragged his lips and tongue even lower. "Oh, my…" I couldn't think straight. I could only sway against him, succumbing to the heat of his mouth as it lingered over my left nipple. I felt it rise and tighten, stimulated by his lips and the tip of his tongue. _Merlin knows how I kept my cool when he started to suck on it. Oh wait, I didn't._ I fingered through his hair and watched him, as he wetted the other nipple and sucked, tightening it between his teeth. "Nnngh, yes…feels…so…."

Words escaped me, the moment I felt his hands sink to my hips. I suddenly became very aware of how aroused I was. A rush of moisture found the silk of my knickers, dampening them, as he hooked his fingers on the sides and dragged them down my thighs. Bared to him, I moistened my lips and took one second to breathe, before I felt his tongue _just there_.

I shuddered against the wall as he probed me there, licking under the hood of my clit, flicking at it, tasting it, breathing onto it and then kissing it. _How on earth I had managed to overlook him for so long, I have no idea. _I couldn't help but wonder whether he had performed this act on anyone else, and made a mental note to thank whomever it was, for teaching him so well. With one hand, he slung my left leg over his shoulder and delved deeper, digging his fingers into my hips and eating me out until I fell apart.

It came over me in waves; the first one being the strongest, and the last one being the longest. I arched my back and tugged at his hair, convulsing with his mouth still on me, lapping my sensitive areas and bathing me in care. It happened in slow motion, frame by frame. I feathered forward, and he was there to catch me. With both hands, he brushed my hair back, looking at me to see that I was okay, before tilting his head down and kissing me. I tasted the arousal on his lips — _my_ arousal.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he whispered to me, smiling. "I would have done it that first night, in the dungeons."

I looked up at him, smiling back. "Is that so?"

He nodded, transitioning that smile into a smirk. "You were so cute in that little skirt," he continued, biting on his bottom lip as he remembered. "And tonight, in that dress. _God_."

I couldn't help it. I giggled a little bit, slinging my arms around his neck, to bring him close for another kiss. Our naked chests pressed together, and he lifted me up, securing my legs around his hips. I felt something hard there, between my thighs. On instinct, I rubbed against it, causing his muscles to contract and another one of those low moans to leave his lips.

A little less gentle this time, his teeth tugged at my bottom lip. I moaned his name, rolling it over my tongue, as he lowered me to the floor.

Somewhere along the line, he draped his cloak over the cold, stone surface. It was still considerably hard, and the look on my face must have shown it, because he switched positions with me rather quickly. I tried to tell him he didn't have to do that, but he silenced my protests with another kiss. It was a lost cause, because the next second I was on his lap, straddling him, as his hands squeezed my bare arse.

"Trousers off," I murmured, all Head Girl-like, sucking in a sharp breath of air, as I felt the material between us vanish. I glanced down, eyes wide. "…_Where did…How did you_…"

"A wizard never reveals his secrets," the Slytherin teased, kissing the top of my nose, before leaning back a little. "I don't mean to kill the mood or anything, but I have to ask…are you sure about this…about me?"

It surprised me, when he uttered that last bit. "Of course I'm sure," I said to him, quiet but confident. "I want this…and I…I want _you_."

"You're not…afraid?"

"Of you? No." I glanced down, thinking for a moment. "Of the pain? Yeah, a little bit…I…I don't want it to hurt."

His eyes tendered. "If it hurts too much, I'll stop, okay?" _Yes, he actually said that, and yes, it was so cute. _"We'll take it slow. I promise."

And he meant every word of it.

I took a deep breath, feeling his lips on mine and his arms around me. On a strange, inexplicable level, I wondered if I would ever get the chance to do this again, with him or anyone else. Because I was in sixth year, there was a looming, ominous cloud that shadowed over me at all times, as well as my friends.

Sensing what was on my mind, he brushed the hair from my face and used one hand to dab the corners of my eyes. Something about the way he knew me without really knowing me, loosened the knot in my chest, allowing me to draw full, rejuvenating breaths, as he reached below and guided me onto him.

I tensed, startled by the brief stretch of discomfort. It was different from the sensation I expected, and it hurt significantly less than I thought it would. I braced myself for only a minute, allowing his hands to guide me lower and lower. It didn't escape me, the fact that he maintained his self-control, and I planned on rewarding him for it later. In that moment, however, all I could do and all I think about, was the natural, mind-numbingly titillating feeling of being filled so completely.

"You okay?" he asked, breathing rather deeply.

I opened my mouth, whimpering a little. "Please…keep…keep going…"

It took him a moment to collect himself, before he could. And when he did, I closed my eyes, securing my arms around his neck and shoulders, as our bodies moved together. It was slow, like he promised, but the pleasure was fast. Suddenly, I realized why he chose this position — both of us sitting up with our faces so close together. I could feel him in so many places, on my lips, my breasts, inside me and in that special place, where his abdominal muscles stimulated me, rubbing up against me.

In four places at once, and I knew I didn't stand a chance.

I climaxed on top of him, feeling every muscle in my body tighten and then release, over and over again. It was kind of emotional, actually. I remember him holding me as it happened, as I rode the waves.

"Was that nice, Granger?"

"Mmm…" I nodded, bringing my hips to a sway. "Again."

I'm sure he wanted to poke fun at me for being so greedy, but he didn't say a word. It seemed the movement of my hips worked to silence him, turning that smirk into a look of complete and utter ecstasy.

Again his hands found my arse cheeks, spreading them as he moved in and out of me. I opened my mouth, moaning. "Hnghh…_yes_…"

"_God_, you feel so good…" he groaned. "…so _tight_…"

Our words continued like that, broken and staggered and layered in lust, as we maintained that slow, heart stopping rhythm. I came again, roughly this time, shouting a string of expletives through gritted teeth. Something about me wanting him to _blank _the _blank _out of me and then drizzle me in his — _I think you get the point. _

On that note, he did, too.

Right on time, his movements quickened, catching the me in final waves of my orgasm, whilst threatening to detonate another. I grasped his shoulders and hung on as he gained speed and depth. It left me with a satisfying ache — shooting pleasure through every inch of my body. Mere minutes of that, and I sunk to the floor, laying with him back-to-front, as the sex carried on, growing more and more frantic, more and more intense.

I moaned outrageously loud, as he reached around me, using one hand to rub my clit and the other to tweak and tug at my nipples. _How dare he try to make me come again, when he hasn't come once. _

It happened quickly after that.

Our bodies met in a series of soft, but firm thrusts. My arse cheeks prickled with heat, slapping against his thighs, when finally those strong, lean limbs tightened around me.

Just like that, the world exploded in a bright, magnificent display of lulling rapture. I breathed out, hoarsely, falling limp against the cloak, feeling Nott come down in a similar manner. In the calm after, we rolled onto our backs and stared up at the ceiling, breathing in and out, just thinking.

"I think we just had sex," he voiced, quite obviously teasing me.

"Yeah," I agreed, laughing a little. "We totally did, didn't we?"

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><p><strong>AN: Thoughts?**


End file.
